Worth
by selfavoidingwalk
Summary: [HouseCameron] The minute she saw them together, Cameron knew that it was time for her to let go. But though she said the words and acknowledged their truth, an irrational part of her clung to the hope. And the hurt.
1. In Which Cameron Fails to Be Happy

  
**Chapter 1: In Which Cameron Fails to Be Happy**

House wasn't in his office. His shoulder bag sat on his desk, a witness to his presence in the hospital. His jacket, draped neatly over the back of his chair, corroborated the bag's story. Cameron stood at the door for a slight second before moving swiftly into the hall. Her heart hoped against hope that she was wrong, but her mind told her it was useless - she knew exactly where to find him.

--------------------------------------------------

Rain fell against the room window, casting irregular shadows on the walls and playing out a gentle, soothing rhythm. Rain that washed away the past, leaving a clean slate in its wake. Symbolic? Maybe. Hardly.

These were among the jumble of thoughts that ran though House's mind as he looked through the blinds into Mark Warner's hospital room. The picture he took in was oddly idyllic for its sterile, hospital setting. Husband and wife, lying side by side. Mark's hand gently tracing out patterns on Stacy's back. As the rain continued to fall, House continued to watch the heartbreakingly familiar scene, conflicted but outwardly expressionless. His reverie was eventually broken by a quiet, timid voice from behind him.

"Dr. House?" said Cameron, her voice breaking slightly.

House turned his head towards her, wondering how long she had been watching him. While he kept his expression perfectly neutral, he noted that her normally perfect complexion was pale. Her eyes were wide with sincerity and something else that he couldn't quite put his finger on. He gave a little inward sigh. Nothing good could come from this. He remained silent, but looked at her expectantly.

As predicted, she spoke first. "How's he doing?"

"Never better," he answered quietly, turning away to look back into the room. Cameron watched his face closely for a moment before moving just close enough to enter into his field of view. His piercing gaze returned to her. She looked strangely fragile. A brief, but awkward pause passed between them before Cameron once again broke the silence.

"I thought you were too screwed up to love anyone," she said, her voice filled with emotion despite her best efforts to remain calm. House continued to look directly at her as she continued with a hint of sadness, "But I was wrong. You just couldn't love me." She gave a brief, waning smile. "It's good. I'm happy for you."

She turned away quickly, biting her lip. House watched her retreating figure in silence until she was out of sight. Shifting his weight awkwardly, he again turned to look in at the woman that he had once loved, lying in the arms of another man. Henow recognized all too well the other emotion that he had seen in Cameron's eyes.

Hurt.

--------------------------------------------------

The next morning found the three young doctors at their usual spots around the table, but in uncharacteristic silence. Cameron stared vacantly at a paper from the New England Journal of Medicine. Chase and Foreman both had an impressive stack of paperwork before them, but were occupying themselves with exchanging looks and hand signals. This continued for the better part of an hour before Cameron finally looked up at them over the rims of her glasses.

"Stop," she said quietly.

Foreman blinked. "Cameron?"

She returned her gaze to the paper in front of her, idly tracing out the lines on a graph with a graceful finger.

Chase looked at her with a mixture of confusion and worry. "You know, he's just an ass," he began. Foreman shook his head vehemently in warning. Ignoring Foreman's pointed looks, Chase continued, "I just don't understand why you would voluntarily subject yourself to something like that."

The latter statement seemed to illicit a reaction from Cameron. Foreman, the more astute of the two male doctors, rapidly got up to move to the coffee machine.

"Chase," she said in an eerily calm voice. Foreman flinched, while Chase looked at her unsuspectingly. "Shut the hell up."

Foreman made a choking noise, then raised his hands apologetically when she redirected her gaze towards him. Chase, flustered and chastened, muttered something about mail and made a hasty exit. Cameron went back to her reading. The next hour was passed in a similar fashion before House's entrance shortly after ten a.m.

"Cafeteria coffee is a travesty," House said in lieu of a hello. He whispered loudly, "I've got a theory." He looked around the room in an exaggerated fashion before finishing, "The cafeteria poisons people, who then come upstairs for treatment. Cuddy collects money for both. Two birds with one stone, it's an administrator's wet dream."

Foreman snorted. Cameron remained silent. House, chosing to ignore both reactions, looked around for a few seconds before asking in a curious tone, "Wherever has the handsome Dr. Chase gotten to?"

"He had some mail to answer," came Cameron's emotionless answer, her attention still apparently focused on the same page from earlier that morning.

House looked at Foreman, who nodded his confirmation of Chase's whereabouts. House then nodded slightly in Cameron's direction and proceeded to make a series of cryptic gestures. Foreman also nodded towards Cameron and was forming some pens into a pattern when Cameron once again looked up. Both men froze mid-gesture.

"Seriously. Stop," she said. A brief pause, and Cameron returned her attention to the paper.

House shot a quick look at Foreman. Foreman merely raised an eyebrow.

"Sunshine, lollipops and rainbows," House said in a philosophic tone.

Chase chose that moment to walk in, unintentionally saving them all from any additional awkwardness.

House gave the group a tight-lipped smile. "Well then, now that Dr. Chase has seen fit to join us, perhaps we can begin?"

Foreman breathed a silent sigh of relief, while Chase cautiously eased himself into the seat next to Cameron's. She looked up at him, smiled and mouthed an apology, her eyes wide with sincerity. He nodded and returned the smile.

"Children!" said House, snapping his fingers in their faces for emphasis and unceremoniously throwing a thick file onto the table. "Start!"

The four began their time honored ritual of brainstorming around the whiteboard, and as the focus turned to their newest patient the tension was temporarily alleviated.

--------------------------------------------------

The afternoon found Wilson and House sitting in Examination Room Two, the examination table covered in empty pretzel bags and candy wrappers.

"She's happy for you?" asked Wilson incredulously. "Come on. No one is THAT nice."

"Partially correct. No oneshould be that nice. But it's Cameron we're talking about. It's pathetic...sickening, really," answered House.

Wilson shook his head. "I just don't get it," he mused. House raised an inquistive eyebrow, which Wilson took as encouragement to continue. "She's beautiful..."

"That's why I hired her," said House with a dismissive shrug, unwrapping a lollipop.

"...and smart," Wilson continued.

"That didn't hurt either," came House's answer from somewhere under the table.

"...and nice...What are you doing under there?"

Slowly easing his way up from the floor, House handed Wilson another lollipop. "Fell off the table earlier."

Wilson accepted the candy and continued while fiddling with the wrapper, "...and she's crazy about you, which is the only thing wrong with her, at least, that I can think of."

House smiled sarcastically. "Thank you, Dr. Wilson. Your words have made me want to be a better man."

Wilson shrugged off the sarcasm with an ease born of experience. "So everything's fine between you two?"

"It's really, really chilly in my office. Foreman has bundled himself up against the cold, but Chase isn't nearly as bright and is catching frostbite." House paused. "Can I ditch the ice metaphor now? It's so totally not working for me."

Wilson gave a small shrug. "Makes sense, I guess. Not even she can make it through an encounter with you unscathed."

House sighed. "Actually, they made up right afterwards. It was like she couldn't apologize fast enough." He shook his head in mock disgust and added, "Makes me want to hurl."

"So what's wrong with her?" Wilson narrowed his eyes. "Or better question - what's wrong with you?"

House sighed exasperatedly. "You damn well what's wrong with me."

"Stacy's gone, House."

Narrowed blue eyes looked up at Wilson's honest countenance. "I KNOW! This isn't about Stacy."

"But -"

"Drop it."

"But -"

"Shut up."

"Fine," conceded Wilson, throwing up his arms in helpless gesture. "But I'm just wondering...how can Cameron be happy for you ifyou're not even happy?"

House was left to contemplate these words as Wilson left the room.

--------------------------------------------------

Cameron leaned forward to rest her elbows on the table surface of her neatly organized desk. Her eyes closed and she let out a small sigh as she massaged her temples. She hadn't had a good night's sleep for the longest time, and the recent chain of events wasn't helping. Nor was the large pile of work awaiting her attention. Reluctantly, she opened her eyes again and was reaching for her glasses when she noticed someone standing in the door.

"Hello," she said, putting her glasses on and taking in the stranger before her.

"Oh - I'm sorry, I was looking for Dr. Gregory House," the man explained, looking at her curiously. "I'm Dr. Wolfe. Albert. From oncology."

Cameron flashed him a smile, standing and extending her hand. "Dr. Allison Cameron. I'm on Dr. House's team. His office is just next door. Feel free to go in make yourself comfortable, I'm sure he just stepped out for a second."

Wolfe walked into the room and took Cameron's proferred hand. "Thank you, Dr. Cameron," he said. "You've been very kind."

"She has that problem, yes," came House's voice from the doorway. Wolfe let go of Cameron's hand, and Cameron folded her arms. House appraised the two of them briefly before curtly nodding his head in the direction of his office. "This way."

Wolfe followed House into his office, and Cameron went back to work, feeling slightly ill at ease. The feeling hit her everytime she saw House, which was everyday. Working so closely with him was everything she didn't need and everything she wanted. She mentally berated herself for her stupidity. She had to let go. She had already let go. Having worked out this rationale, she refocused on her work. But she still couldn't stop herself from taking the long way to the elevators and looking into his office as she headed out for the night.


	2. In Which Chase Tries to Help

  
Chapter 2:In Which Chase Tries to Help

"Why House?"

Foreman looked up from his work to see Chase watching Cameron preparing samples in the adjacent lab. "What do you mean," he said warily.

"I just don't get it," said Chase, still staring at the window. 

Foreman shook his head slightly. "Hey."

Chase looked up. Foreman wagged a finger at him. "STILL a bad idea."

Chase rolled his eyes and crossed his arms defensively. "How many times do I have to tell you this! She's a colleague, that's all."

"And it should stay that way. Are those test going to run themselves?" Foreman answered, gesturing towards a line of test tubes on the lab bench. 

Chase moved towards the indicated samples, muttering, "I might have a girlfriend, for all you know."

Foreman let out a short, loud laugh that caused Cameron to look up from the other room inquisitively. He waved at her and she smiled, returning her attention to the microscope in front of her. Without having to look at Chase, he answered, "You're still looking at her. Stop."

He was answered by the sound of the lab door closing. Before Foreman could fully register what was going on, he saw the blonde doctor tap Cameron on the shoulder and smile nervously.

Foreman sighed and turned away with a slight smile gracing his lips. "Neither one of them ever listens to me," he said to himself.

--------------------------------------------------

Cameron had agreed to dinner between friends. Chase knew that she was essentially alone in Princeton, and that she was hurting. It was very sweet gesture on his part. It didn't occur to her until later to wonder why Chase had been so nervous if his kindness had stemmed from only friendship, or why he had been so insistent on repeating that point. But Foreman had been right there in the other room, watching the whole thing. She had to stop being so suspicious. Shrugging to herself, she moved her thoughts onto more interesting matters. Centrifuges, microscopes and computer readouts filled her mind with calm.

Chase, on the other hand, was not so lucky. Reading at his desk, he fidgeted and rustled papers, standing up every 5 minutes to stretch or pace the room floor. Finally a rubber football smacked him square in the back. He spun around to lock eyes with a very annoyed looking Foreman.

"Keep that up, and I swear I'll..." Foreman trailed off as House walked in. A curious expression on his face, House stood in the doorway, looking at Foreman, at Chase, and back again. Foreman shifted in his chair and cleared his throat. Chase hid the football behind his back and slowly edged his way towards his desk.

House rolled his eyes. "I don't know what you two lovebirds are arguing about, but quarrel on your own time, please. I don't want to have to testify at the divorce proceedings." He moved towards Foreman's desk. "Do we have an answer from the lab yet"  
Foreman shook his head, getting up and handing House a file. "Cameron's running the last few gels right now."

"You're letting the GIRL do the work?" House's eyes widened in mock understanding. "Oh, I see, you wanted some alone time."

Choosing to ignore the jibe, Foreman silently handed House a file. Flipping through the pages, House continued, "And you know, I thought you were all such good..."

He paused. Foreman, curious, stood up and walked around to the front of his desk.

Chase looked up, interested. "What?" he questioned. He moved to join them, reading over House's shoulder. "Did you find something?"

House swatted at him distractedly and Chase moved to stand a little further away, still craning his neck to see. "What are you..."

"You idiot!" exclaimed House, shoving the file at Chase. "How could you miss something this obvious?"

A look of panic washed over Chase's expression. "What?" he asked, scouring the page with his eyes. 

"Nothing," answered House, moving towards the door. "Do a full tox screen, PET scan and that thing with the tube and the clicking. You know what I mean." He assumed a martyr's expression. "Back to the clinic before Cuddy finds me. Page me when you've got something."

Chase threw the file down onto the table and swore. Foreman bit back a grin.

--------------------------------------------------

Four pm. House moved as stealthily as his complaining leg would allow him, past the orderlies and behind a series of strategically placed shelves. He had almost made it to the clinic door when Cameron moved quickly in front of him, cutting off his escape. He straightened up and sighed dramatically.

"Busted," he said, feigning remorse. "Don't tell Cuddy, please?"

She stood in front of him, hands in the pockets of her lab coat and staring up at him earnestly. He shifted his weight uncomfortably, moving back to lean heavily on the nursing station behind them. He was shocked to see her smiling. He had forgotten how long it had been since he had seen her with a smile on her face.

"Finished in the lab, it's not viral. MRI was clean. Chase is doing the angio now. And Stacy...Ms. Warner and Dr. Cuddy want to see you," Cameron said in even tones.

House looked at Cameron closely, a little surprised by the calmness with which she returned his look. "That's all," he answered slowly, in a tone making it somewhere in between a statement and a question.

Cameron nodded. "You left your pager in the office," she added, taking the object from her pocket and offering it to him. He took it from her slowly, and watched her hand retreat back into her pocket. 

"Thanks," he said.

Cameron smiled again and turned to walk away. House stood where he was for a split second, then raised an eyebrow and made his way slowly to Cuddy's office. Stacy sat on one of the comfortable looking couches, files and papers littering the normally neat floor. House stood at the door, surveying the damage. "Wow," he said dryly. "Your organizational skills have gone to hell."

"And you'll be joining them shortly, I'm sure," she countered, a tell-tale smile on her lips. He smirked, and their eyes met. Cuddy walked in a split second later, recoiling slightly from the intensity in the room. She cleared her throat, assuming a professional air.

"Dr. House. Please do have a seat."

House smiled. "Why, Dr. Cuddy. You weren't nearly so formal last night. Call me Daddy."

Stacy rolled her eyes. "Sit down, Greg."

"I'd much rather stand, thanks."

Cuddy shrugged. "Okay, suit yourself. You've been invited to lecture at this hospital's annual fundraising banquet. Apparently you really inspired Dr. Riley's students. One of them is the son of someone important. Seems that you've made a friend."

House turned around to leave. Stacy moved quickly to stand between him and the door. "Greg, please."

"What is this, some sort of all-girl tag team?" House paused for a minute, as if savoring the thought. "Hmm, there's an idea."

Cuddy pointed a pen in his direction. "House, you're doing this lecture. We need the money. Do I need to remind you why?"

"No, but something tells me you're going to anyways." He sighed. "Ladies, I'd love to, but I have plans."

Stacy put her hands on her hips. "A bottle of whiskey and GH reruns are hardly plans."

House leaned forward, smiling sarcastically. "I beg to differ."

"This isn't a debate, House," interjected Cuddy. "This is a very small favor to do for a hospital you cost a hundred million dollars."

"I knew you'd find a way to bring that up." He looked from one woman to the other and sighed. "Fine. Whatever. Can I go now?"

Cuddy nodded. Stacy moved aside to let him pass. As he left, they shared a look. "Is it just me, or was that too easy?" asked Cuddy aloud.

Stacy could only shrug.

--------------------------------------------------

Cameron yawned and stretched at her desk. Chase looked up and watched her movements with interest. "Tired, Cameron?" he asked.

She nodded. "Haven't really been sleeping, or eating properly, for that matter." She smiled. "So where are we going tonight?"

Foreman coughed, as if to reaffirm his presence in the room. Cameron, oblivious to Chase's reaction, turned her smile to him and asked, "Foreman? How come you're not coming?"

Foreman briefly considered ruining Chase's evening just for the hell of it, but shook his head regretfully. "Sorry, got plans."

Cameron nodded. "Some other time, maybe." She turned to Chase. "So, I was asking...where are we going?"

Chase smiled and answered, "Where do you want to go?"

Cameron shrugged. "Doesn't really matter. I'm on a bit of a budget though, at least until our next paycheck clears." She smiled ruefully. "No shopping sprees for a while."

Chase waved it off nonchalantly. "My treat."

Cameron stared. "What?"

"My treat. Please, Cameron. I'll pick you up and we'll go wherever you want. And don't worry about the bill. I just want you to have a good time." She was still staring, so he gave his best imitation of the Wilson smile and added, "That way, you'll come to work in a good mood and won't try to bite our heads off like you did this morning."

Cameron laughed, a sound that neither Foreman or Chase had heard in a long time. "Are you sure, Chase?" she said, becoming serious again.

Chase nodded. "My pleasure."

Cameron smiled. "That's very sweet of you," she said. "Thanks. Well, I'm going to go home first. You decide where we're going, I'm good with anything. Call when you're ready."

Chase nodded. "See you later, then."

Foreman waved from his desk. "'night, Cameron. Have fun."

Cameron nodded, waved goodbye and left. Chase went back to work, a self-satisfied smile on his face. Until he looked up to see Foreman's hulking figure standing directly in front of him, his expression anything but pleased.

"Cameron is a sweet, trusting girl. Don't you know that?"

"Yes, of course..."

"And she's our friend as well as our colleague, or did you forget that part?"

"No, of course I didn't..."

"She may be strong, but you think she can't break? With everything that..."

"Quit interrupting me!" broke in Chase, his hands shaking with barely contained anger. "You don't think I know everything you've just said? What is your point?"

Foreman moved deliberately back to his desk and sank heavily into his chair, folding his arms. "We have a great team, Chase."

Chase ran a hand through his hair. "I know. I'm just trying to help."

"Who are you trying to help, exactly?" interjected Foreman forcefully.

Surprised by the vehemence of Foreman's reaction, Chase answered defensively, "Cameron, of course, who else?"

Foreman laughed, a short, bitter laugh not unlike the one earlier in the day. "You, looking out for someone else. Right."

Chase clenched his teeth. "You don't trust me?"

"Should I? House sure doesn't. And with reason, I might add."

"This is totally different! Cameron wants..."

Foreman stood up again, his sudden movement almost sending his chair across the room. "What? Her heart's broken and you're going to heal it? You're the one that she really wants? Stop being a child! This isn't a game! When everything's done, we still have to work together! What, things aren't screwed up enough already?"

In one violent motion, Foreman slung his bag over his shoulder and threw his coat over his arm, looking back as he walked through the doorway at an ashen Chase. "Just...just be careful, man," he said in a gentler tone. Chase nodded wordlessly and watched the wall for a few minutes before also packing up and leaving.

On the other side of the glass wall, House lay on the floor behind his desk, staring at the ceiling. His expression was grim.


	3. In Which Wilson Gets Into Trouble

A/N: Thanks for the reviews. It means a lot. :) 

**Chapter 3:In Which Wilson Gets Into Trouble**

"Dr. Wilson."

Wilson looked up from the nurses' station to see Wolfe walking towards him, and wondered what could have possibly possessed the young doctor. An unassuming thirty-something oncologist of quiet good looks, moderate build and growing reputation, Wolfe was universally known for being almost unreasonably afraid of authority figures - not excluding his own department head.

"Dr. Wolfe," Wilson answered, smiling and turning towards him. "What can I do for you?"

As Wolfe turned his gaze to the floor in front of him, Wilson noticed a slight difference in his bearing. His hair was a little too well combed, his shirt and pants were freshly ironed, and he detected a trace of cologne. His observations were cut short by Wolfe himself, who thrust a file into his hands without a word. Wilson coughed, and opened the file. "Yes, Albert?"

"This Dr. Cameron, she's the attending?" Wolfe asked, leaning forward to point at a signature. Wilson nodded. Wolfe continued, "I think I saw her a couple days ago in Diagnostics. Never seen her before. She's new?"

Handing the file back and only half-listening, Wilson answered, "Yeah, she's one of House's. Immunologist, I think. Nice girl."

"You see her often?"

"Pretty regularly. I'm over in that part of the building a lot."

"Is she a good doctor?"

Wilson looked up in surprise. "Is there anything in that chart to suggest otherwise?"

Wolfe shook his head, waving his hands in denial. "No, no. I was just wondering. There's a lot of detail in here. Looks like she really cares."

Wilson smiled. "To a fault. Patients like her too much, and she becomes emotionally attached to the case."

"Well, she's good looking, too," Wolfe mentioned in a causal, off-handed manner. "Doesn't surprise me that she's a hit with the patients."

Wilson shot him a curious look, before moving closer and smiling in a deceptively innocent fashion. "Is she? I've never noticed," he said, carefully schooling his expression.

"Rather," answered the oblivious Wolfe. "How could you not notice? She's stunning. Seems like the type you'd automatically gravitate towards, if your reputation is deserved."

Wilson laughed uncomfortably, surprised by Wolfe's unusual bravery. "Well, she's not my type. I like blondes," he hedged.

Wolfe nodded nonchalantly, and a brief silence passed before he added, "Do you know if she's seeing anyone? I heard she had dinner with Dr. Chase last night."

Wilson shook his head in the negative, a smile threatening to burst onto his countenance and ruin his cover. "They're just friends."

Wolfe seemed reassured. "Thanks, Dr. Wilson." He cleared his throat nervously. "Uh...I'd really appreciate it if you didn't say anything to anyone."

Wilson nodded. "Don't worry. I won't."

--------------------------------------------------

"Why can't you just tell me?" asked House, reclining languidly with his feet up on his desk.

Wilson let out an exasperated sigh and answered, "Look, I just can't. But it's good."

House contemplated this for a minute. "Okay. Do it again."

Wilson got on all fours and made clawing motions while House watched with interest. "Wow, it is good," he said dryly. A couple nurses passed by and shot each other looks. Wilson sighed and got up again.

"You suck at this," he said, pointing an accusing finger at House, who just rolled his eyes. Wilson's gaze moved to House's bookshelf to see an old copy of People. He sprang across the room and grabbed the magazine, flipping through it to locate a perfume ad. He pointed triumphantly at the animal.

"Wolf," said House. "What's your point. And more importantly, you look at perfume ads?"

"Common knowledge," said Wilson defensively. "But okay, okay..."

House sighed. "This game isn't fun. What about a wolf?"

Wilson paused, and made clicking noises while pretending to take pictures. House stared at him, a look of disgust on his face. "And you think I'm crazy."

Cameron walked in and arched one sculpted brow at Dr. Wilson's antics. He stopped his motions promptly. "Hello, Dr. Wilson," she said, a trace of humor evident in her voice. He nodded, and then pointed frantically at Cameron as she passed by him. House furrowed his brow and gestured for Wilson to leave.

"It's okay, this'll only take a minute," Cameron said.

"You don't give me nearly enough credit," responded House in a low, suggestive tone.

Cameron wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Here's the bloodwork. That's all. I'm going to check on the patient." Smiling at Wilson, she left without so much as a backward glance.

Wilson shot a surprised look at House. "That was fast."

House shrugged. "Apparently she hates me too. So what about a wolf and Cameron?" His eyes widened. "Oh, Wolfe and Cameron."

Wilson clapped. House's eyes widened even more, this time in mock surprise. "They had sex?" he breathed. "Are there pictures?"

Wilson glared, his arms crossed. "House..."

"Yeah, okay, I get what you're trying not to say. Tell him Cameron's taken. Chase took her out for dinner last night."

"You knew about that?" asked Wilson, surprised at House's nonchalance.

House shrugged. "Don't really care. Foreman was tearing Chase a new one and their voices carry, what with our rooms being next to each other and all. Definitely not spy material. Besides, I don't think Cameron thought it was a date."

"Does it matter to you if she did?" asked Wilson carefully.

House grimaced. "No." He grabbed his cane, got up slowly and headed for the door. He turned back to face Wilson. "You know, you aren't exactly spy material either."

--------------------------------------------------

Their mistake for letting him leave the room so easily. House had dreamed up the perfect excuse for not lecturing at that fundraiser, and now he was off to find someone who would be willing to back his story. Someone they would trust AND someone that would readily accede to his wishes. Wilson would have been too obvious. Having more than one friend would have helped the situation considerably.

A candidate presented himself in his mind and he headed towards oncology. Wolfe seemed to be the easily frightened type, having barely choked out two complete sentences during their meeting the other night. He relished the thought of making the young man squirm. As he passed the lab, he saw Cameron writing busily into a notebook with her back facing the door. He slowed his pace, watching as she turned her face slightly and leaned forward to enter something into the computer on her right. He couldn't stop himself from looking in. She was beautiful.

Which was irrelevant. At least ten other staff members had made similar observations to themselves during the course of that day.

But a mixture of sadism, the potential for amusement and a twinge of wanting to talk to her caused him to deviate from his original route and enter the lab. She didn't look up as he entered, implying that she knew who it was. He waited for her to speak. When she didn't, he moved slowly towards her and leaned against her work counter. She gave a small sigh of resignation and looked up.

House knew he shouldn't, but couldn't help himself. "How was dinner?"

Cameron froze. Then, regaining control of her voice, she answered, "Fine, thank you. We had a good time."

watching her reaction closely, he continued, "You know, he likes you. I heard Foreman yell at him. Your bodyguard thinks that Chase is using your emotional state to his advantage."

Tensing up and folding her arms, Cameron carefully measured her words before asking quietly, "What emotional state?"

House gestured towards her stance with his cane. "That," he said, "is a classic defense reaction. You're the psychoanalyst, tell me what that means."

She stared at him, her face burning furiously. He smiled, cocking his head to one side in a confident manner that she found both fascinating and aggravating at the same time. She turned away.

"Come on, Cameron," he prodded. "I thought you liked talking about this stuff."

"Chase was right."

He blinked, drew back a little, and waited for explanation. He got none. So he paced the room, looking at computer readouts and watching her from the corner of her eye. She ignored him.

"Are you going to the fundraising banquet?" he heard himself asking. He watched her body stiffen. Good, he still had some effect on her.

"Yes," she answered quietly.

He sighed. "I'm apparently giving the keynote lecture," he said, inwardly wincing as he ruined his escape plans for no good reason at all. "I'll see you at our table then." He was about to leave the lab when he heard her speak.

"I'm sitting with the Oncology Department."

House stopped in his tracks, turning slowly to observe her expression. She was carefully turned away from him. "Why?" he asked. "Wilson's sitting with us, like he always does."

"Dr. Wolfe dropped by earlier to ask me if I would sit at his table. I said yes," she answered calmly.

House laughed derisively. "Well, that's a step up for you, isn't it," he said, realizing too late the severity of what he was about to say. "You married a man who died of cancer, so now you're dating a man who cures it. Very logical."

She spun around rapidly, her eyes bright with unshed tears and burning with cold intensity. He involuntarily took a step back, knowing that he had crossed the line but resolutely unwilling to apologize. She walked towards him slowly, stopping to stand right in front of him. Staring directly into his eyes, she said in a clear, disturbingly steady voice, "I hate you."

A moment passed, their gazes locked and a ringing silence settled between them. A single tear rolled down Cameron's face. She broke eye contact and turned away.

He stood in place for another few seconds before he heard himself say, "Good." He left the lab, memorizing yet another conversation in that accursed room that left them both feeling terrible.

--------------------------------------------------

"This is your fault!" exclaimed House, storming into Wilson's office. Wilson gestured towards the phone in his hand. House gestured for him to hang up.

Wilson sighed. "I'm sorry, Julie. I'm going to have to call you back." He paused. "Yes, that was House." Another pause. "Yeah, I know. I'll call you back." He hung up, and looked up at House. "What?"

House sat down and pointed his cane accusingly at his friend. "You told Wolfe that Cameron was available!"

"Yeah, but you told me..."

"This isn't about what I said, it's about what you said!"

Wilson held up his hands. "Whoa, whoa. Calm down."

"I am calm!"

"Yeah, sure you are," said Wilson, pointing to the cane. "That's why you're waving that thing in my face."

House lowered his cane slowly and sighed, slumping into his chair. "This is going to screw up the team. I just know it."

Wilson fought the urge to smile. Any other time he would have given House a hard time about using the T-word, but at the moment it seemed terribly unfair. So he kept silent and waited for House to continue.

"Actually, it's Cameron's fault," House said. "If she didn't...hadn't..."

"Liked you?" suggested Wilson, arms folded across his chest and leaning back in his seat.

"I was going to say 'been such an idiot'."

Wilson leaned forward. "I thought you didn't care what she did. Why does her sitting at Wolfe's table bother you so much more than her having dinner with Chase?"

House fidgeted in his chair and tapped the ground with his cane. Wilson waited while House formulated his answer. Finally, he looked up, his expression unreadable. "I don't think Chase stands a chance."

Wilson looked surprised. "So you only care because you think Wolfe stands a chance with Cameron, and her dating anyone would be bad for the team," he said, his tone skeptical.

House nodded. "I do care very much about the team dynamic, you know," he said in a tone of mock seriousness. "It's key to the practice of medicine. Didn't you pay attention in class?"

Wilson laughed. "You're a lousy liar, House."

House shook his head. "Contrary to popular opinion, I am a team player. And I most certainly do not lie." He paused. "Besides, she told me that she hates me."

Wilson shrugged. "Probably didn't mean it."

"I told her that she was dating an oncologist in order to compensate for her husband's death."

House watched as Wilson widened his eyes in horror. "You what?"

House shrugged. "Devil made me do it."

"Maybe she'll forgive you," Wilson said slowly. "She has a tendency to do that."

"What makes you think I care?" asked House abruptly, getting up and leaving the room.

"Then why were we talking?" Wilson called after House's retreating figure. He shook his head and reached for the phone. For all House's fondness for rationality, sometimes there was just no reasoning with the man.


	4. In Which House Talks Too Much

A/N: The build up is a bit long, because I think House needs time to figure out exactly what it is that he feels. And I think Cameron deserves the opportunity to figure out exactly what it is that she wants. The way I see it, even if anything happens between them on the show...long, painful and protracted it will be. (Unfortunately.)

Chapter 4:In Which House Talks Too Much

The patient was about as old as Cameron, as good looking as Cameron and as smart as Cameron, but she was otherwise completely different from Cameron. She had been brought in, more an emaciated corpse than a woman, suffering from a series of complications resulting from years of living life on the edge. Drugs, alcohol, sex, the whole shebang. Now she was almost fully recovered, and as Cameron stood beside her bed, flipping through her file, a faint hint of disapproval radiated from beneath the young doctor's calm expression.

Her patient watched her closely. "Dr. Cameron, you're too uptight," she decided. "But other than that, not bad at all. Definite potential. Now that I'm better, we could have fun together."

Cameron laughed gently. "I'm not really into your kind of fun, Jenny," she chided.

"Why not?" asked Jenny petulantly. "Scared?"

Shaking her head, Cameron merely answered, "Nope," and continued to write into the file. 

Jenny wasn't going to let her off that easily. "You think you're better than me," she challenged, eyes flashing. 

Cameron looked up. "No!" she exclaimed, dropping the file in her haste to deny the accusation.

Jenny laughed. "See?" she said, settling back comfortably on her bed and gesturing towards the scattered papers. "Way too uptight."

"I'm just not that..." Cameron paused as she searched for the word. "Adventurous," she finished, neatly rearranging the pages and placing them back into the file folder.

"Excuses..."

"And," added Cameron in a slightly more authoritative tone, "I'm a doctor. Doctors make lousy patients. So I try to avoid activities that will land me in that position before my time. You should too."

"You'll live longer, sure," her patient countered. "But what's the big deal if you haven't really lived at all?" She flashed a brilliant smile at the stunned Cameron. "Just think about it. You've worked so hard for so long. What are waiting for? Don't you think it's about time you let loose and had a little fun?"

Cameron gave her a little smile. "Maybe you're right," she admitted. And while she tried to tell herself that she was merely placating her patient, a part of her agreed that the idea was not without its attractions.

--------------------------------------------------

"Dr. Cuddy?"

Cuddy looked up from her paperwork to see Wilson standing awkwardly in her doorway, her door half open. She gestured for him to enter.

"You need to teach House some of your manners," she said, resting her arms on her desk. "He usually just barges in here."

Wilson walked into the office and stood on her carpet, both hands in the pockets of his lab coat. "I don't think I have that much influence on him, unfortunately," he said, smiling.

Cuddy returned his smile. "Probably not." She looked closely at Wilson, who now looked slightly uncomfortable. "So, Dr. Wilson. Is there something I can do for you?"

Wilson coughed. "Well, it's probably none of my business," he began.

"But?" she prompted.

"But I was wondering." He paused, and then blurted out in one breath, "Why did you ask House to give the keynote address at the fundraising banquet?"

"Ah." Cuddy paused slightly, gathering her thoughts before answering. "You remember the lecture he gave to Dr. Riley's students a while back?"

Wilson nodded in the affirmative.

"Well, one of the students is the son of someone important, and they specifically requested that Dr. House be the speaker at this event." She gave Wilson a wry smile. "Apparently the young man was quite inspired."

Shock hardly began to describe the look on Wilson's face. Cuddy noted his incredulous expression with some amusement.

"You don't say," he finally managed. 

She gave a small shrug and nodded. "I couldn't make this up if I tried."

"Good point." He paused again, another question coming to his mind. "So he didn't try to get out of it? Why did House agree?"

Cuddy sighed. "That's what I don't know," she admitted, not without some trepidation.

--------------------------------------------------

"You're leaving us alone with House?"

Cameron's gentle laugh resonated through the office. "Cuddy will be at your table too!" she pointed out. "Don't worry, you two'll be fine."

"I didn't think you could be so cruel to your friends, Dr. Cameron," sighed Foreman dramatically. "Even if you ARE ditching us to sit with a handsome, young oncologist."

Chase choked on his coffee.

"It's nothing like that," Cameron assured Chase, misreading his expression for protectiveness.

Chase cleared his throat and assumed a tone of nonchalance. "Please tell me it's not Wilson."

"Oh my God, no!" she exclaimed, waving her hands to dispel the very idea from their minds. "Albert Wolfe. He came to House for a consult a few days ago."

Foreman nodded solemnly and gestured at her with his coffee mug. "So, you two known each other long?" he asked.

"Not really," she answered. "We've only seen each other a few times. Once when he was here to see House, once in the hallway, and once in the lab when he asked me to sit with them."

"Maybe he's seen you more than you've seen him," said Chase with a suggestive wink. "Through the lab window...through your bedroom window..."

Foreman laughed. Cameron looked moderately distressed. "That's sick," she said, hands on her hips. "And it's nothing like that."

"Sure, whatever," muttered Chase.

"He could be watching you right now," added Foreman. She glared at him. He shrugged. "Just trying to be helpful." 

Cameron rolled her eyes. "They just needed a tenth person at their table, that's all."

The two men looked at each other and shook their heads simultaneously. Cameron gave them a fond but exasperated look, and gestured towards the door. "Don't you two have work to be doing?"

Foreman shook his head. "House hasn't been around all day. Now that Jenny's been discharged, there really isn't anything for us to do."

"Let the inquisition continue," added Chase, smiling.

Cameron sighed.

--------------------------------------------------

The fundraising banquet was, as predicted, a total bore. House sloshed the watery wine back and forth in his glass as Wilson made casual conversation with Foreman and Chase. Cuddy was with Stacy, chatting with some smartly dressed businessmen at the back of the room. He looked at his watch and groaned inwardly. So many more hours to go. He snuck another look at Cameron, who was sitting on the other side of the room. It was the fifth time in ten minutes that he had done so, and once again he assured himself that his actions were merely out of morbid curiousity and boredom. He squinted to get a better idea of what was going on.

Cameron was obviously a hit with the oncology table, which was only to be expected. Women envied her beauty, but her humility and heartwrenching niceness were undeniable attractors. She was the girl most women wanted to be and the girl everyone wanted to be friends with. She chatted easily with the wives of two prominent oncologists. House snorted. Figured that she'd try to make friends with everyone.

Wolfe, who normally flew under the radar, appeared to be himself the object of much envy that night. House could see why. Even he had to admit that Cameron looked positively radiant. She wore her long brown hair down around her shoulders, her natural waves framing her flawless complexion, her luminous eyes clear and sparkling. The single male contingent at the table drank in her beauty, her mix of intelligence, humor and vulnerability charming everyone around her. Wolfe sat by her side, hanging on her every word, clearly enthralled by every gesture, every expression. Again, House made a disgusted noise. A nagging voice prodded at his mind and asked if he was upset because she seemed determined to be happy without him, but the blasphemous thought was rejected as soon as it passed into his consciousness. He returned his gaze to his wine glass.

Three hours left.

The sound of Cuddy's voice from the stage startled him out of his mood. "And now, I'd like to bring one of our most brilliant...and troublesome...doctors to the front of the room to give you an idea of what Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital is all about. Please join me in welcoming Dr. Gregory House."

Polite clapping from the audience. From the murmurs in the crowd, it appeared that his reputation preceded him. He slowly made his way up to the podium, coughing awkwardly before extracting a small piece of paper from his pocket and leaning into the microphone. Cuddy slowly moved off the stage to stand against the wall of the room, shooting him a warning look that was not lost on the people in the room. House grinned.

"I think Dr. Cuddy is afraid of a repeat of the Viopril fiasco," he commented dryly. This illicited a laugh from the audience, and on that note he began his speech.

As a rule he disdained public speaking, but as with most things he was actually quite good at it. An intimidating presence, he easily commanded the attention of the entire room. His piercing blue gaze swept across the people collected before him, passing quickly over Stacy, stopping slightly at Wilson, deliberately skipping over Cameron and Wolfe. His tone matter-of-fact, he spoke of the hospital, how it was unique in its approach to patient care, and how it was rare for a hospital administration to be so willing to risk their necks to save the lives of strangers. Or to stand up for their doctors.

"Now that I've said all this," he noted, his trademark sarcasm returning to the surface, "I'm going to make Dr. Cuddy's life a living hell for the months to come. Wouldn't want to lose my reputation."

More laughs. He accidentally looked over at the oncology table and his eyes locked with Cameron's. She smiled. He looked away.

He leaned into the microphone once more, "So I guess what I'm saying is, donate money before I bankrupt this place with my legal costs."

More laughter, and loud clapping as he walked off the stage. He was greeted at the bottom of the steps by Cuddy, who wore a warm smile on her face. "You were almost charming, House," she said, her head tilted to one side, her expression a mix of delight and shock.

House shrugged. "So you WILL sleep with me, then," he said, staring deliberately at her chest.

Cuddy's smile was unaffected. "Nice try," she said. "You're going to have to try harder than that if you're going to make me believe that you're still a complete jackass." She walked away. 

House sighed, and after a cursory glance at Wilson he opted to delay returning to the table. He had already lost one round of banter to Cuddy. He was not in the mood to rack up any more defeats that night, and he was sure that his friend had several comments already prepared. House headed straight for the bar.

"Scotch," he said to the bartender, who nodded and poured a generous portion into a glass. House was about to drink when he noticed a familiar figure standing at the end of the table. Long brown hair. Slender and graceful form. Face slightly flushed, her eyes alight with life as she chatted with a server. He downed his drink, asked for and received another, and moved to stand beside her, shooting a look at the server. The young man made a quick apology to Cameron and moved off hastily. A sigh from Cameron, and she turned to face the newcomer.

House contorted his face into something between a grimace and a smile. "Must you be friendly to everyone?"

Cameron gave a small shrug. "I like to talk to people."

"What about to people you hate?" asked House, surprised to find that he was nervous.

Cameron fixed her attention on the glass of wine in her hand. "I don't hate you," she sighed. "Well, not literally, anyways."

House was careful to prevent anything resembling relief from crossing his face. "Trying to salvage your job?"

"Chase ratted you out to Vogler and he's still here," Cameron replied coolly. "I doubt you'd fire me for saying something you hear everyday."

House let a short laugh. "Good one."

Cameron turned to watch the activity in the main part of the room, and House followed suit. They stood a meter apart, backs against the bar and steadfastly avoiding eye contact.

"Nice speech," said Cameron after a minute's pause, taking a small sip of her drink.

"Yeah, thanks," answered House. "I was going to say something outrageous, but I was afraid that I'd go home and find you on my doorstep, staring at me with those puppy dog eyes and all ready to quit again."

More silence. House spoke again, something different in his tone. "So. Where is the good Dr. Wolfe?"

Cameron had seen this question coming and was, for once, prepared. "He had to make a phone call."

House nodded. "And how's your date going?"

Cameron looked at House out of the corner of her eye before answering. "Dr. Wolfe is nice," she responded slowly. "And it's not a date." She paused. "Exactly."

House grunted and smiled sardonically. "Has he actually said anything to you the entire night?"

Surprised, Cameron turned to face House. "What?" she questioned. "Why would you ask that?"

He shrugged. "He seems to have a bit of a hero worship complex," he noted, ignoring the confusion on Cameron's face. "Like you're too far above him for him to do anything except stare at you in awe."

Cameron shook her head. "I don't know where you're getting this from, but you're wrong."

"I'm never wrong," came his quick response.

"Right," she scoffed.

House edged slightly closer to Cameron, emboldened by the scotch. "I saw the way he acts around you. Like a lovesick fifteen year old with a crush on the homecoming queen."

Cameron raised an eyebrow. "You weren't even at our table," she said slowly.

House shrugged. "I have good eyesight."

Cameron gave him a dirty look. He held up his hands to protest his innocence. "Look, I was bored," he said defensively.

Cameron looked like she wanted to argue, but decided against it, opting instead for a small nod. "Okay."

House gestured in the direction of the phones, where Wolfe could be seen walking towards them. "There's your Prince Charming."

Shaking her head in disgust, she drank the rest of her wine and began to walk away when House's voice stopped her. Made her heart stop for the briefest of moments.

"He's not good enough for you."

She halted dead in her tracks, and for a split second House thought she was going to turn around. But he was mistaken. Her back still turned, he could just barely make out her parting words. But he did hear them, and despite how quietly they were spoken, her words continued to ring in his ears even after she had straightened her back and walked towards Wolfe without a trace of hesitation in her step.

It was a full minute before House allowed himself to completely register Cameron's voice in his head, quiet, sad but resolute.

"Neither were you, House."

House noticed the unfinished glass of scotch and decided that it looked infinitely more inviting than it had several minutes ago. He drank it quickly, at once wincing and revelling in the burning sensation as it made its way down his throat.

"Barkeep. Another scotch." This one he downed in one go. "Keep them coming."

-------------------------------------------------- 


	5. In Which Cameron Makes a Lovely Mistake

A/N: Thanks for the reviews. You're all very sweet. This is a bit of a long chapter. ... Sorry. :) I just read a spoiler for season 2 and I figured this would sort of fit in with the direction they're taking. It sort of breaks my heart to write it. (No offense, Chase/Cameron fans. It's a logical development, but it's just not my cup of tea.) 

**Chapter 5 : In Which Cameron Makes a Lovely Mistake**

Wilson's brain was veritably bursting with snide comments by the time House returned to the table, a good forty minutes after he had first stepped down from the stage. Wilson chuckled to himself as he gleefully considered which of his many remarks to use first. He looked up as House sat down, and was about to speak when something in House's manner gave Wilson pause. He took a closer look at his would-be victim and promptly realized something was very wrong. House's brow was furrowed, his eyes were distant and he wore an expression that promised death to anyone who crossed him. Wilson shared a look of understanding with the other people at the table, who likewise elected to stay silent. For the remainder of the evening, they gave way to House's wordless request to be left alone to his misery.

The banquet ended not a minute too soon. House shrugged on his jacket, muttered his goodbyes and was out the door before anyone at the table could think to react. Foreman shot an inquiring glance at Wilson, who stood in place for a brief moment before hastily grabbing his own coat and darting off in hot pursuit.

Chase, who had been finishing off the rest of his coffee, looked up a minute later to see that both House and Wilson had already left. "Where'd they go?" he wondered aloud.

Foreman shrugged. "House was in a hurry," he offered by way of an explanation. "I guess Wilson went to find out why."

Chase nodded, absent-mindedly moving a sugar cube around the table with his spoon. "I wonder if it had anything to do with his conversation with Cameron."

Foreman looked surprised. "What conversation?" he asked. "I didn't see them talk to each other all night."

"Cameron was at the bar after House's speech. They spoke for about ten minutes before she walked off and he came back," elaborated Chase.

"That's rather detailed," commented Foreman dryly. "Guess someone was paying attention."

Chase shot Foreman a look. "You're going to tell me it's a bad idea again, right?"

Foreman sighed. "Would you listen if I did?"

"Probably not," said Chase after a moment's consideration.

"Then I'll save my breath," said Foreman, resignation evident in his tone. "But don't say I didn't warn you."

Chase nodded, barely hearing Foreman's words and craning his neck to see into the crowd. He was looking for Cameron.

------------------------------------------------

Wilson may have had an unfair physical advantage, but House had a potent mixture of scotch, Vicodin and anger coursing through his veins. They were well within the parking lot by the time Wilson caught up.

"House!" called Wilson, his voice resonating into the night and startling some bystanders.

No response. Wilson sprinted the last few metres to fall into step beside an openly scowling House.

"House, is this about the - "

"No."

House sped up, and Wilson had to take longer strides to keep up with him. "House, please -"

"Leave."

With a quick movement, Wilson jumped in front of House, blocking his path and forcing the irate doctor to stop abruptly. The suddenness of the action caused a sharp burst of pain to run up House's leg, illiciting from him a small grunt and a grimace of discomfort. Wilson looked at House apologetically, then gripped him by the shoulders, preventing any further movement and forcing House to make eye contact.

"Sorry. But I need to you talk to me. You -"

House rolled his eyes, his wall of sarcasm now firmly in place. "I'm tired from a long night of kissing ass. That's all. Not used to it like you are." He gave Wilson a tight-lipped smile. "Bedtime. Good night."

Wilson dropped his arms to his side and sighed. "Dammit, House! Just - "

Again House cut him off, this time with a gesture of his cane. "Jimmy," he said flatly. "Please."

Wilson winced. House hadn't called him Jimmy in ages. Whatever happened, it was serious. He caved under House's cold, unrelenting gaze and allowed him to pass by without any further opposition. House would talk when he was ready, which past precedent dictated would be a couple hours from now.

Wilson made a mental note to keep the cordless on his bedside table, and though he remained worried he allowed himself the luxury of a small, know-it-all grin. Given the vehemence of House's reaction, he was pretty sure he already knew what this was about.

-------------------------------------------

Cameron looked around the room, barely registering Wolfe's nervous voice and busily convincing herself that she was not looking for House. She was still angry at how insensitive he had been, but a part of her was flattered that he'd cared enough to comment at all. It was with some disappointment that she noted that neither he nor Wilson was anywhere to be seen. Snapping back to reality, she mentally scolded herself for her lapse. House was good at playing games, especially when it came to her and her feelings. They had already gone down that road. The outcome was certain.

"Dr. Cameron."

Suddenly aware of another's scrutiny, Cameron looked up to see Wolfe staring at her earnestly. His steady gaze caused her to blush slightly and feel extremely self-conscious. "I'm sorry, Dr. Wolfe," she said, smiling gently. "My mind must have been elsewhere."

He fidgeted nervously and looked at the ground. "I was..." He cleared his throat and tried again. "I was wondering if you would allow me to drive you home."

Cameron was about to agree when she realized that she couldn't in good conscience say yes. Wolfe was a nice man, but this evening had clearly shown that was no spark between them. And as much as she respected and liked him, she couldn't see this developing into anything remotely resembling a relationship. While one side of her asked what harm accepting could possibly do, she had personally experienced the pain mere flirtation could cause. How could she inflict that same pain on another? How could she be sure that she wasn't doing this just to spite House? She hesitated.

She heard Jenny's voice in her head, urging her to stop analyzing and just have fun. She heard her own voice telling her to stop leading him on before things got really uncomfortable.

Cameron opened her mouth to speak. "Uh..."

As if on cue, her pager beeped loudly, causing Wolfe to look up in surprise. Frowning, Cameron hastily dragged the device from her purse and glanced at the screen.

"RM 432 CODE BLUE REPORT PPTH ASAP"

Wolfe leaned forward to read the message. "You should probably get that," he said quietly.

Cameron nodded. "Yeah," she said, trying to hide to relief from her expression. "I'm sorry. Thanks for a nice evening."

Wolfe was, after all, an intelligent man. Dejected but ever the gentleman, he took the hint gracefully and after helping her into her jacket, bid her good night. Cameron felt a brief pang of guilt, but she had just been offered a way out of a volatile situation and she was not about to waste it.

She left the dining room by the side doors and was walking towards the doors leading to the parking lot when she remembered two things. Firstly, Wilson had given her a ride to the banquet and he was nowhere to be seen. Secondly, there was no Room 432. Momentarily confused, she paused in the hallway to consider these two pieces of information. She sighed and headed for the pay phones. She would call the hospital to inquire about the message, and wait for the crowd to thin out a little before she called a cab.

Her pager beeped again, surprising her once more. She turned it over to read the new message. Slowly, a smile of understanding spread across her lips. The message read:

"THERE IS NO RM 432"

She shook her head and laughed. Her pager beeped once more, and a new message flashed onto the screen.

"NEED A LIFT?"

Still laughing, Cameron looked up to see Chase standing by an emergency exit, looking innocent and holding the door open with one arm. He winked. Walking towards him, she flashed a brilliant smile and punched his arm gently as she passed through the doorway.

"Thanks," she said, turning around to see Chase standing immediately behind her. She was a little surprised by his proximity, he noted, but not uncomfortable. He took this as a good sign.

"Don't mention it," he said. "I like to be useful."

-------------------------------------------

House shoved his door open, ignoring the loud noise it made as it smacked into an unsuspecting wall. Shutting the door again with unnecessary force, he strode angrily into his living room and collapsed onto the couch. He sat motionless for a full minute before struggling out of his jacket and dress shirt, throwing them disgustedly to one side. The ubiquitous t-shirt he wore underneath felt like a straitjacket and he squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. Referred pain, he thought to himself wryly. Seeking relief from his inner turmoil, he twisted sideways to face the mostly full bottle of whiskey sitting on the end table. He leaned over to grab the bottle. Not bothering to look for a glass, with hasty, almost desperate actions he unscrewed the cap and took a swig. He ignored the trail of fire it left in his throat, popping two Vicodin into his mouth and washing them down with another fiery gulp.

_She was right, you know_.

House was too tired to wonder where the voice was coming from. _Who?_ he asked, not really caring for the answer.

_Allison._

House stifled a yawn and took another drink. _Oh. Cameron. Right. That._

_You call her Allison in your thoughts. I should know._

Holding the whiskey bottle in one hand and massaging his forehead with the other, House slowly moved his legs onto the couch and lay down. He shook his head to clear the haze from his brain, blinking rapidly, then rubbing his eyes. 45 year old male, presents with psych symptoms. Causes? Alcohol and drugs.

"Makes sense," he said to no one in particular.

"I read in the papers that if you get drunk and talk to yourself, all your wishes will come true," came a voice from his door.

House sat up slightly and squinted into the darkness. "Mmmh," he answered, finding the effort too demanding and flopping onto his back with a groan.

Wilson walked in and closed the door behind him. "Spare key under the doormat. House, I expected more from you."

No response from the couch. Concern evident on his face, Wilson strode across the room to where House lay. He gritted his teeth and yanked the bottle of whiskey away from his friend, silently thanking his own paranoia for making him stop by. House muttered something that may have been a protest. Wilson ignored him.

"What does this solve?" asked Wilson, quietly surveying the pathetic scene before him. "What does this prove?"

House shifted slightly to lie on his good side. "It proves she was right."

"Who?"

"Allison!" exclaimed House irritably. "Cameron! Whatever! You know!"

Wilson blinked.

Even through the bleary fog that was his consciousness, House could tell that Wilson was confused. He gave a small, apologetic laugh. "Sorry, I was having a conversation with my conscience earlier," he said, groaning as he propped himself up on one elbow. "I assumed that it was you. It usually is."

Shaking his head, Wilson walked into the kitchen and returned with a glass of water. He handed it to House, who accepted it gratefully.

"What did she say to you?" asked Wilson finally, after House had taken a drink and gingerly placed the glass on the floor below him.

House sighed and fell back onto the couch. "I told her Wolfe wasn't good enough for her. I don't know why I said it, but I don't regret it. It's true." He paused, and spat out, "He's NOTHING."

Wilson waited, sensing that this wasn't the entire story.

Sure enough, House continued, "Her response...was that I wasn't good enough for her either." His eyes were dead as they met Wilson's. "Maybe she's right."

Arms folded, Wilson sat down at the piano and faced House. "So what are you going to do about it?" he asked.

"I don't know," admitted House, his voice hollow.

Wilson didn't need to press the matter any further, nor did House need to say anything more. Wilson had confirmation of what he had suspected all along, what House had denied to himself all along. And House knew that Wilson knew. It was all understood. Such was the nature and depth of their friendship.

Sighing, Wilson pulled his car keys from his pocket and gestured for House to get up. House was too tired to protest, which only served to amplify Wilson's concern.

They both knew that House needed to see her. Without that relief, he would soon be beyond saving.

-------------------------------------------

Chase drove in silence. He glanced furtively at Cameron, who seemed determined to keep her gaze fixed on her hands, which were folded neatly on her lap. Chase shook his head slightly. He should have kept his mouth shut.

Cameron had related that evening's incident to him in detail. It had been nice to vent, having supressed her feelings the entire night in order to avoid spoiling the evening for Wolfe and the others at her table. Chase had been a good listener. Until he decided to venture an unwelcome opinion on the matter.

Now she wasn't speaking to him.

He cleared his throat. Time to be an adult. "Cameron," he said.

She fidgeted with her hands but remained silent.

"Allison," said Chase, a note of desperation in his voice.

She sighed, brushing a stray hair from her face and tucking it behind one ear. "I know. I'm sorry."

Chase let out a quiet sigh of relief. He pulled into the parking lot beneath her apartment and turned the ignition off. "Well, here we are," he said slowly. He turned to look at her and was momentarily taken aback by the sight he held before his eyes. It was strange, that after all this time he still hadn't become accustomed to how she looked. It was as if every different emotion she experienced made her look slightly different. Slightly more beautiful. If that was humanly possible.

He gulped and tried to remind himself that the beautiful woman before him was a doctor and his colleague. The reminder that she was beautiful AND talented only exacerbated the problem. He shifted awkwardly in his seat.

Finally she nodded in acknowedgement of their arrival and unbuckled her seatbelt, reaching for the door. But behind her calm demeanor her thoughts were as conflicted as Chase's. She knew that once again, albeit unintentionally, she had in her hands total control over their relationship. It was no secret that Chase was attracted to her, it never had been. But then again, it had never been an issue. For once she didn't know what she wanted to do about it.

There was something between them, but she didn't know what. She had been too busy falling hard and fast for House to really give any attention to developing anything more than a friendship with Chase. And now that the House situation was resolved, here he was. This charming, intelligent, wealthy young doctor who was willing to go out of his way to help her. To make her happy. It had been so long since someone she considered important had truly cared about her.

He got out of the car and went around to open the door for her. She stepped outside and looked at him. He gulped again.

Impulsively, she blurted out, "Do you want to come in?"

He nodded wordlessly. They stared into each other's eyes for a moment, each swept up in their own thoughts. The sound of another car pulling into the parking lot broke the intensity of the moment and they both smiled sheepishly, averting their gazes. Cameron turned to walk towards the front doors. Letting out in a rush of air the breath that he had been holding in unbeknownst to himself, Chase ran a hand through his hair, straightened his jacket and followed.

-------------------------------------------

From his vantage point outside of Cameron's apartment complex, Wilson watched the interaction between Cameron and Chase. His arrival had obviously interrupted something, and he continued to watch as she and Chase disappeared through the main doors. He looked over to the passenger seat, where House was fast asleep beside him. Wilson was glad for small mercies. He didn't think his friend could handle anything else tonight.

He tapped the steering wheel as he contemplated his options. He couldn't take House up there without knowing the situation between Chase and Cameron. Wilson made his decision and began to pull out of his parking spot. In the morning, when House woke up in Wilson's guest room, he would tell House that by the time they arrived at Cameron's apartment he had been in no condition to see anyone.

How he was going to fix the problem in the long term, Wilson had no idea.


	6. In Which Foreman Deals With t Aftermath

A/N: I decided that I'd better finish this story soon, before my grades begin to deteriorate and all hopes of graduate school are dashed forever. Thanks for the reviews. I'm a big fan of Wilson. Good friends are hard to come by -- guess my bias shows. :)

----------------------------------------

**Chapter 6: In Which Foreman Deals With the Aftermath**

Hung over and generally displeased with the world, House walked towards the conference room with all the eagerness of a man approaching his ultimate demise. He steeled himself before he pushed the door open, dreading to see Cameron at her usual spot around the table, to have her cooly hand him his coffee, to hear her speak to him with nothing in her voice but professionalism. This buildup only made him all the more surprised when he was greeted by the sight of Foreman sitting alone, taking sips of from his coffee mugand playing with the pens on the table.

"Well, isn't this nice," said House, hiding his surprise with a smirk. "Cameron I could understand, after her hot date. But Chase?"

Foreman rolled his eyes. "Grow up."

Silence settled between them as House moved to the window and looked outside. He experienced a brief moment of hatred for the weather. It was a beautiful day.

"What would Wolfe and Cameron's children be like?" he wondered aloud in a mocking tone.

"Stop," said Foreman dangerously.

"They'd probably be mute," said House in answer to his own question.

Foreman smiled sarcastically. "Yeah. Except that they didn't leave together. So...Stop."

With an air of nonchalance so real that he almost believed it himself, House asked, "So who DID she leave with?"

"Chase gave her a ride home, I think," said Foreman with a dismissive shrug.

House blinked, his composure temporarily disrupted. Foreman was too preoccupied with a rubber band to notice.

"Chase and Cameron, eh," House said finally, his sarcasm coming to the rescue. "I wouldn't have guessed." Foreman glared at him. House shrugged. "Well, what am I supposed to think?" He turned away from the window. "As their boss?"

"They're just late," said Foreman. "It happens."

"Ah." House gave Foreman a knowing look. "Happens."

Foreman answered House's look with a blank one of his own. "Yeah. Late."

"Ah. Late."

Foreman threw up his hands. "You're crazy."

House walked away from the window, shaking his head solemnly. "Fifty bucks says I'm right."

"I'm not going to bet on my friends' personal lives!" exclaimed Foreman, rising to his feet and walking over to the coffee machine.

Shaking his head, House took the seat next to the one recently vacated by Foreman and put his feet up on the table. "Why? Because you think there's a chance that I'm right?"

"Of course not," scoffed Foreman, adding sugar to his coffee. "It's a matter of principle."

House smirked. "Liar." But secretly, he found Foreman's response reassuring.

----------------------------------------

Groaning, Cameron rolled over to look at the clock. 10:00 am. She reshut her eyes, yawning and stretching out on her bed. Tons of time. She wasn't due at work until 8:30 am. Reality rudely imposed itself on her thoughts as the haze in her brain slowly cleared. Swearing and bounding out of bed in a swift motion, she grabbed a hairbrush off her nightstand with one hand and began pulling clothes out of her closet with the other.

She dressed, pulled her hair up into a bun and brushed her teeth at record speed. 10:15 am. House was going to have a field day. She ran into her living room, threw her jacket on and flung her bag over her shoulder, fumbling around in her pockets for her keys. She paused at the door, temporarily confused by the presence of Chase's jacket on the coathook. All at once the memories of the previous night came flooding back to her.

The sound of her own laughter as Chase animatedly related his medical school antics. The comfortable atmosphere between them as he leaned forward on the kitchen counter, smiling at nothing and watching her make coffee. Sitting on opposite ends of the couch, talking and laughing while the coffee grew cold, forgotten and untouched on the coffee table.

The awkwardness that arose suddenly and without warning. The look in his eyes, passionate and caring. The guilt in hers.

The kiss that resulted from a lapse of judgement. How he had wanted it more but pulled away first, looking into her tear-filled eyes for an emotion that wasn't there. Knowing without words that she couldn't give him what he wanted, no matter how much she wished that she could.

How soft his voice sounded, even as it cracked from emotion. His eyes, pleading and hurt. His proud bearing as he silently walked out the door, closing it gently behind him. Leaving her to curse herself, her coldheartedness and her stupidity.

He had accidently left his jacket there, and neither one of them had noticed. But Cameron noticed now, and as she stared at the offending item tears silently rolled down the side of her pale, worn face.

----------------------------------------

"So, Chase and Cameron."

Wilson accidentally inhaled part of his sandwich. House watched with some amusement as Wilson coughed uncontrollably for a minute, then leaned over to pat him on the back.

"There, there, Wilson," he said, quirking an eyebrow. "That's your breathing tube, not your eating tube. You're a doctor, you should know the difference."

Wilson still looked shocked. House narrowed his eyes. "What?" he asked. "You are a doctor, aren't you?"

"No! I mean...yes, I'm a doctor, but..." stammered Wilson. He took a long drink of water and coughed once more before beginning again. "But...how did you know?"

House looked confused. "The lab coat kind of gives it away."

Wilson rolled his eyes. "How did you know about Chase and Cameron?"

House blinked, giving Wilson time to realize his mistake. He promptly tried to cover it up, laughing nervously. "I was just kidding," he began.

House shook his head and gave a derisive laugh. "You'd think that someone with your track record would be a better liar."

Wilson sighed and shifted his gaze to his half-eaten sandwich.

"You saw them? Last night?" asked House, his voice strangely quiet.

The feeling was like what he experienced when he had to tell a patient that they were terminal. Except that it was House, and in some ways the implications were worse than death. Wilson felt slightly sick, knowing the effect that his words would have on his friend but unwilling to lie. "He followed her up to her apartment," he answered slowly. "But that doesn't mean anything."

House nodded. The rest of their lunch was passed in silence.

----------------------------------------

Chase's jacket hung obediently on the coathook behind her as Cameron stood in the conference room, sorting through a stack of files that were strewn haphazardly on the table. Foreman noticed her through the window and strode into the room.

"Where the hell have you been?" he asked, gesturing with his hands for effect.

Cameron set a file down on top of the pile and crossed her arms. "What do you mean?"

Foreman poked her shoulder with one finger. "You." When she didn't respond, he shook his head and said, "Like you don't know. Chase drove you home last night, and you show up for work at lunch time. What do you think I'm asking?"

She looked upset. Foreman tried a different tack. "I may be a car thief, but I'm not a snitch," he said light-heartedly. "Come on, Cam. You know me."

Cameron pursed her lips and looked away. "Foreman, this isn't something I want to talk about."

He sighed, shoved his hands into his pocketsand looked around the room stiffly, waiting for her to cave. A voice interrupted their standoff.

"Cameron."

They looked up to see Chase standing in the doorway, his face expressionless and his arm extended, holding a file out to her. "I think this is what you're looking for."

Cameron nodded and took the file from him without making eye contact. Once the file was in her hand, Chase turned quickly and walked down the hallway, his shoulders hunched and his expression grim. Foreman watched the entire exchange with dawning realization and dread. "Oh, God," he breathed.

"It's not what you think," she muttered, flipping through the file and feigning interest.

Foreman put a hand on her shoulder, causing her to look up. "Then tell me." He noted the look of hesitation on her face. "It can't be any worse than what I'm thinking."

She bit her lower lip. "Depends on what you mean by worse."

----------------------------------------

"She doesn't want me."

His tone was so dejected that Foreman flinched, reaching over and patting Chase's shoulder sympathetically. "Hey man," he said softly. "I'm sorry."

Chase laughed bitterly, tearing a computer readout off the printer with more force than necessary. "But you knew this would happen." He swivelled around in his chair. "Aren't you going to say it? I told you so? I know you're dying to say it." He turned away again, shaking his head angrily. "Go ahead. Knock yourself out."

Foreman raised his hands in denial. "Come on, man. You're my friend. I don't revel in other people's misery." He jokingly added, "I'm not House."

"I'm not either," muttered Chase darkly.

Foreman gave Chase a look.

"I'm not stupid, Foreman," responded Chase to Foreman's unspoken question. "Come on."

Nodding an apology, Foreman turned his attention back to his work. It was Chase who next broke the silence.

"I just...don't understand," he blurted out.

Foreman sighed. "Look. Sometimes there isn't any reasoning about this kind of thing. I know you're hurt..."

"Damn right," interjected Chase forcefully.

"...but Cameron didn't want to hurt you. No seriously!" he added as Chase snorted his skepticism. "She cares about you. It's just..."

Chase held up a hand, indicating for Foreman to stop. He complied.

"I know it's not her fault," said Chase slowly.

"But you still blame her for it."

Their eyes met in understanding. Chase nodded imperceptibly. "Yes."

----------------------------------------

When House walked in, Cameron and Foreman were sitting across from each other at the table, speaking in low tones and oblivious to his entrance. Cameron looked upset, he noted, unsure of how he was supposed to feel in reaction to that. A part of him was pleased - good humor would have spoken of a positive outcome to her and Chase's evening together - but the lack of a definitive answer did not do anything to assauge House's discomfort. He wasn't at all sure what to make of her distraught expression, nor was he at all certain that he wanted to find out. Finally, he cleared his throat to announce his presence. Startled, they looked up simultaneously. Cameron looked panicked. Foreman merely looked ill at ease.

Uh...sarcoidosis," Cameron said, her face flushed, hands rapidly flipping through a textbook that was open on the table.

House's hand pressed down hard on the book, preventing her from turning the pages. She closed her eyes briefly and then brought them up to meet his, her gaze now defiant. Foreman continued to look uncomfortable, picking up the nearest file and scanning it.

"Nice of you to join us, Dr. Cameron," said House after a moment's pause, having unsuccessfully wracked his brain for something clever to say.

"I'm sorry, Dr. House. I must have overslept," answered Cameron. Foreman raised an eyebrow but kept silent.

House shrugged. "Don't really care. Go do whatever it is that you're supposed to be doing."

Foreman and Cameron got up from the table and were at the door when House impulsively asked, "Cameron, where's Dr. Chase?"

She froze. "Probably in the lab," answered Foreman for her, shielding her from House's line of sight with his body. "I think he was spinning Rm. 421's urine."

House didn't press the issue. He waited for them to leave, and then leaned against the wall, tapping his cane on the ground in time with a rhythm only he could hear. Cameron was a terrible actress. With nothing more than a cursory glance he had seen pain, longing, fatigue, sadness and guilt. The first four he had become accustomed to. It was the last that he was having trouble deciphering.

----------------------------------------

It was five o'clock, and the three young doctors sat in the conference room in complete silence, save for the gentle clicks of Cameron's typing on her laptop. Chase resolutely avoided looking at her, and Foreman moved his gaze from one to the other with growing impatience. Finally he slammed his fist onto the table, startling the two out of their individual thoughts.

"Dammit!" he exclaimed, as the other two doctors stared at him in shock.

"Foreman," Cameron began. He silenced her with a look, and she sank back into her seat, her eyes still wide with surprise. Chase's expression mirrored her own as they fixed their eyes on their frustrated colleague.

"Look," he said, hiswords clipped. "I respect you both as doctors, and you have both been great friends to me. But the way you're acting now..." He glared at Chase, who had been about to speak. "The way you're acting now, you're going to force me to choose between the two of you. And I refuse to do that. This is ridiculous."

"Foreman," Cameron tried again. He held up a hand and she sighed, crossing her arms and waiting her turn.

"Cameron, you like Chase, right? But as a friend. You never meant to hurt him."

Cameron looked like she was going to die of mortification. Chase looked like he was going to kill Foreman. Foreman was nowhere near done with either of them.

"Chase, you like Cameron. But you like her as more than a friend. And she hurt you."

Cameron looked down at her feet. Chase sat up. "Now, look here..."

Foreman threw his arms up in a gesture of helplessness. "What are we, high school children?" He pushed his chair back from the table, gathering his things and standing up. He walked to the door. Without turning back, he said quietly, "God knows I care about you both. We've got a good thing here. Stop ignoring each other and talk it over. Please. Don't screw this up."

He walked out of the room, leaving Chase and Cameron to stare at each other in stunned silence.

----------------------------------------


	7. In Which Wilson Interferes

A/N: This is infinitely more fun to write than my thesis. As always, thank you for the kind reviews. Makes me smile. Quite a daunting task, usually. This story will probably finish at Chapter 10 /- 1. In case you were wondering. :) 

**Chapter 7: In Which Wilson Interferes**

It was 8:00 pm, and once again he was late for dinner. Wilson sighed as he walked through the front doors of the hospital, straightening his tie and shifting his briefcase from one hand to another. Home sweet home indeed, he thought to himself wryly, as he simultaneously imagined a million places he'd rather be.

From outside the hospital he could see that some of the office lights were still on. He hadn't seen House since their awkward lunch together earlier that day, and Wilson wondered idly if he was still in the hospital. He paused. Briefly weighing his sense of duty to House versus his sense of duty towards Julie, he turned around and reentered the hospital, temporarily confusing the janitor to whom he had bid good night not two minutes ago. He pressed the elevator button and waited impatiently.

Wilson stepped off the elevator a few minutes later to see a virtually deserted floor. Drinking in the silence that surrounded him, he reached the conclusion that his friend had most likely gone home. Walking up to House's office door, he observed that no music was audible, the lights were off, and there was scant activity in the area. He was about to turn around and leave when he heard the familiar rattle of a pill bottle emanate from somewhere within the darkness. Shaking his head, Wilson pushed the door open and entered, flicking on the lights and ignoring the groan that came from behind the desk.

"I know you're in here, House," said Wilson, placing his briefcase on floor by the door. He approached the desk warily, secretly dreading a repeat of last night's events.

House's head materialized from behind his hiding place. Rolling his eyes and sighing, he stood with visible effort and slowly dusted himself off. As Wilson watched, he yawned and stretched calmly as if it was perfectly reasonable for him be lying on his office floor in the middle of the evening. "Tired out from a hard day at work," he explained, rubbing his eyes with one hand and reaching for his cane with the other.

Wilson looked around the room. "I don't see any files."

House scrunched up his face in thought. "I memorized them," he countered.

Wilson nodded, skepticism evident on his face. "Right." He walked to the nearest chair and sank into it with a sigh, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. He carefully scrutinized House's appearance, looking for evidence of alcohol and relieved to find none. "So," he asked conversationally. "How WAS your day at work?"

House's eyes narrowed briefly. Then, sitting down at his desk, he leaned back lazily and responded, "Hard."

"Got to do better than that, House," replied Wilson patiently.

"Such wordplay implies an ulterior motive." He eyed wilson suspiciously. "You're not going to confess your undying love for me, are you? Because I'm not into that kind of thing."

Wilson laughed. "Ew. I could do better."

House's expression darkened, and Wilson immediately regretted his words. "Been talking to Cameron?" he asked caustically.

"I was just joking," came Wilson's cautious answer.

House tilted his chair back to stare at his ceiling. "I know," he said as he absent-mindedly twirled his cane between his fingers.

"Did you talk to her?"

House shook his head, his gaze fixed on an indeterminate spot above him. Wilson waited a few minutes for a verbal response and was worried when he received none. "No smart-ass comment?" he said lightly. "I'm disappointed."

The sound of wood striking the glass table top resonated through the room, causing Wilson to jump. "I'm...tired," said House finally, after an awkward pause. He left his cane on the table, brought both hands behind his head and put his feet up, deliberately avoiding eye contact.

Wilson stood up and walked to the conference room doorway as House watched him out of the corner of his eye. Wilson gestured towards Cameron's desk. "Does it bother you, to sit this close to her but have a wall in between you two?"

House grimaced. "Is this some sort of lame metaphor?"

"You're the only lame one here," retorted Wilson.

"Nice," responded House appreciatively.

Wilson decided to push his luck. Returning to his seat and crossing his arms, he said, "Look, I know the answer already, but..."

"Then why are you asking?" House interrupted.

"...do you like her?" finished Wilson without any hesitation.

House sighed dramatically and rolled his eyes. "Does it matter?"

"Stop dodging the question," said Wilson, pointing an accusing finger at his scowling friend. Unwilling to let the issue go, he got up and began pacing the room.

"Quit it," said House finally, taking the stuffed tennis ball from his desk and throwing it at Wilson's head. "It's annoying."

Wilson dodged the projectile easily and turned to face him. "Answer the question, and I'll stop."

Housetilted his head to one side. "I'd rather answer my own question." He got up from his desk and walked over to Wilson. "The answer is no, in fact, it doesn't matter. She's got her rebound boy, I've got this..." He gestured towards his office with his cane and continued with a patently fake smile, "...and all is right with the world."

"So you do like her," concluded Wilson.

House grunted. "You're not allowed to answer your own questions. Only I'm allowed to do that." He walked towards the door and looked curiously into the silent hallway.

Wilson picked the tennis ball up from the floor and offered it to House, who accepted it with a nod. "Ball's in your court," said Wilson cryptically.

House gave a short laugh. "That's the best you could come up with?" He leaned towards Wilson, putting his weight on his cane. "Why are you trying to make me suffer?" he asked in an exaggeratedly plaintive tone.

Wilson threw his arms up in an impatient gesture. "I'm trying to STOP your suffering, you moron."

"Tried, and failed." House put one hand on the door and turned around to look at Wilson. "So why are you still here?" he asked inquisitively.

"You think holding the door open is going to make me leave?" asked Wilson in an incredulous tone.

House shook his head. "No, I need to go to the washroom. I quite literally want to know why you're still here." He quirked an eyebrow. "Why aren't you at home? Julie cooking tonight?"

Wilson crossed his arms. "Oh, no. We are not doing this. We are not making this about me."

House smirked. "Either Julie's cooking, or you've got a hot date."

Wilson paused. Then, to House's surprise, he responded by smiling smugly and saying, "Actually, there is a girl I'm going to see." Calmly, he walked to the door, grabbed his briefcase and stood expectantly in front of House.

Intrigued, House moved aside to let him pass and called after Wilson as he left, "Who?"

Wilson waved goodbye without turning around.

House stood at his office door for a moment, contemplating the last part of their conversation before shrugging, reentering his office and sitting down heavily in the nearest seat. He reached up and switched the light off with his cane, closing his eyes. He was off the hook for now, but it wouldn't last.

--------------------------------------------------------

"You should probably stop."

Chase looked up through glazed eyes. "Stop what," he said, attempting to brush his hair out of eyes and missing. Cameron looked on in a mixture of concern and dismay.

"Chase, please."

Their after-work hangout was deserted save for a few regulars, all of whom were too drunk to focus on their conversations. Chase wasn't quite at that stage, but he was working on it.

"You know," he said, pointing in Cameron's general direction as he finished his drink, "It was technically your idea to come here."

She gave him a look. "Yeah, to talk," she said. "Not to get drunk. I can't talk to you if you're drunk."

"Maybe I don't want to talk," muttered Chase vehemently.

Cameron sighed. "Look, I'm really sorry. I really am. I..."

Chased cut her off with an abrupt gesture. "Foreman's an idiot. Talking isn't going to get us anywhere. We're just going to walk out of here, drunk and more upset than when we started." He paused. "Well, I'll be drunk and upset. You'll just be upset."

"We'll see," muttered Cameron as she signaled to a nearby waiter.

They sat in silence. The waiter came by and took Cameron's order. More silence. Cameron stared at her hands.

"Just tell me..." began Chase.

Cameron looked up. "Yes?"

"You never liked me." A statement, not a question.

Her heart went out to him, but she couldn't lie. "Of course I liked you," she said carefully.

Chase nodded. "But not like I liked you."

She shook her head, unable to say the words. His eyes met hers. "Never?" he asked gently.

She shook her head again, and again he nodded.

"Then why?"

Cameron moved her gaze to the table top, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles on her napkin. "I thought...maybe..."

Chase leaned back in his seat and said hotly, "I'd be a convenient rebound?"

She looked up, shocked by his sudden anger. Chase gestured a little too enthusiastically and knocked his glass onto the floor, where it shattered loudly. No one seemed to notice except the lone waiter, who set Cameron's drink on the table, rolled his eyes and headed for the supplies cabinet. "I mean," Chase continued, his voice laced with sarcasm, "I admit I'm flattered. I'm accessible, easy to manipulate, and apparently you don't give a damn about how I feel, so why not?"

"It's not like that," responded Cameron, her voice shaky. She took a steadying breath before continuing. "I honestly didn't mean for it to get to this point." At this, Chase snorted and moved to get up from the table, but Cameron wasn't about to let it end that way. She grabbed his arm to prevent him from standing and looked him in the eye. "You've been a great friend to me, Chase. You've been there when I needed you, and I'll always be grateful for that. This friendship between us, I thought maybe it could grow into something more. That I could care about you the same way..."

She trailed off, but the look in her eyes was lost on Chase. "The same way I care about you?" he hedged, watching Cameron's reaction closely. He sighed and closed his eyes. "No, of course not. The same way you care for House." The hurt in his voice was painfully apparent, and he reopened his eyes to see his pain mirrored in hers.

He sank back into his seat and took her hand in his. She was too surprised to react. "Look," he said, trying to ignore the lump in his throat, "You can't make yourself love someone. And you can't make someone love you." He coughed, and Cameron's other hand fidgeted with her napkin. Chase sighed. "You know how I feel about you, you know how I feel about the House issue. And even if I'm angry, I know I can't blame you for either of those things."

A tear rolled down Cameron's cheek, forcing Chase to look away. "It's alright," he said, forcing a smile onto his face. "We're good as friends, right?"

She nodded, and whispered, "Yes."

There they sat, hand in hand, silent and looking away from each other.

---------------------------------------------------------

Unlocking the door and walking through it with a sigh, Cameron surveyed her empty apartment, threw her coat and bag onto the couch and walked into the kitchen. The microwave told her that it was 9:00 pm. She opened the fridge and closed it again when she found that nothing appealed to her appetite. Grabbing a box of cereal off of her counter, she walked back into the living room and settled down on the couch with the closest book she could find. She tried unsuccessfully to concentrate on the pages in front of her, but found herself instead rehashing the events of the past few days. She threw the book onto the coffee table in frustration, and hugged the box of cereal closer to her as she ate out of it.

The ringing of her doorbell interrupted her thoughts. She rose to answer the door, half-heartedly running a hand through her hair. She wondered who could possibly be coming to see her at 9:00 pm on a weeknight, and concluded that Foreman was the most likely candidate. A quick glance through the peephole revealed an awkward looking Wilson, shifting uncomfortably in place and fidgeting with his tie. Hiding her surprise, she paused for a minute to collect her thoughts before opening the door to welcome him.

He smiled when he saw her. "Dr. Cameron. Is this a bad time?"

She shook her head and returned the smile. "Not at all. Please come in." She stood back to let him into her apartment, then closed the door behind him. She turned to see him quietly appraising her living room.

"Nice place," he said.

"Thanks," she responded. They stood there for a moment, Wilson uncertain as to how to proceed, Cameron wondering why he was there. Finally, she gestured towards one of the couches and said politely, "Won't you please have a seat?"

He accepted gratefully, situating himself in the spot previously occupied by Cameron and covertly examining her almost immaculate living quarters. She opted for the other couch, moving her things to one side for make room for herself. She looked at him expectantly.

"Uh," he began. She raised an eyebrow. He sighed, and decided to throw caution to the wind. "I'm here to say what House can't."

Surprised by his forthrightness, Cameron waited in silence, her heart pounding in her ears.

Wilson sighed. "House..." He hesitated slightly before finishing in a single breath, "He likes you." He paused again. "A lot."

She stared at him with a mixture of hope and disbelief in her eyes. "How do you..." she began.

"He's been torn up ever since the banquet," he responded, knowing her question before the words even left her mouth.

Nothing could have prepared him for the effect his words had on Cameron. She recoiled as if physically struck, a mixture of emotions crossing her face in a span of a few seconds. She opened her mouth to speak, only to find that no words came out. She took a deep breath to settle the uneasy feeling in her stomach.

Wilson watched her reaction with some concern. "Dr. Cameron. Are you alright?"

She nodded, finding her voice. "I'm sorry. You caught me off guard." She looked at him, clearly confused. "Did he send you?"

He shook his head, and she wasn't sure whether to be glad or devastated. "He would kill me if he knew I was here. Doing this."

Lowering her eyes to the floor, Cameron asked in a small voice, "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I'm worried about him," responded Wilson.

She smiled slightly. "I know. But that's not what I meant." She looked him directly in the eye, the intensity within them taking him by surprise. He could now understand why House always seemed shaken after a serious conversation with this woman. "I want to know why YOU'RE telling me this."

"Ah," he answered slowly. "Because he's too much of a moron to say it himself."

Cameron found herself wanting to accept his reasoning at face value, but her principles wouldn't allow it. "Or, he doesn't like me enough to say it himself," she said, deliberately keeping her voice cool. "That leaves us exactly where we were before."

Wilson leaned forward slightly, his tone imploring. "You have to understand where he's coming from."

She sighed, and after a moment's pause she answered softly, "I know. Stacy broke his heart. And it breaks again everytime he sees her."

Wilson looked at her carefully. Cameron obviously empathized House's pain. Suddenly the pity he felt for his friend was extended towards the fragile looking young doctor in front of him. Her next words confirmed his thoughts.

"I do understand," she said, in a tone that bespoke exactly that. She turned her face away from him.

Wilson nodded, grasping her point. He still had one question that needed to be answered. "Dr. Cameron," he said hesitantly. "Are you...and Dr. Chase..."

She shot him a look. He shut his mouth.

"What exactly is it that you want me to do?" she asked quietly.

Wilson froze. "I...don't know," he said reluctantly. "I guess I just wanted to see..." He trailed off, and an uncomfortable silence settled between them. He cleared his throat.

Leaning forward to cradle her head in her hands, Cameron finished for him, "You came here to find out whether I'm over House."

"Pretty much," Wilson admitted.

"And?" she prodded.

"You're not," he answered without hesitation, wondering why she was suddenly the one asking the questions.

"You're right." She sighed and tucked a loose hair behind her ear. "But I wish I was."

Wilson nodded silently.

Cameron crossed her arms. "Did you find the answer you expected?"

He nodded again. "Pretty much."

---------------------------------------------------------

The next morning saw Foreman walk into the conference room with his defenses up. He had worked out several scenarios prior to his arrival at work and mapped out several contingency plans. But not one of those scenarios began with Chase shoving a box of donuts into his face.

"Peace offering," Chase stated matter-of-factly, persistently poking Foreman in the shoulder with the box. Foreman took it from him. Chase smiled, which did nothing to relieve his confusion.

After the initial shock wore off, Foreman managed a feeble smile. "Thanks," he said slowly. He set the box down on the table, and was about to make coffee when Cameron strode into the room with a thermos and three recently washed coffee mugs.

"I made coffee at home," she said in a happy voice that Foreman found most disconcerting.

He stared at her suspiciously. "Good morning," he said. "What's going on here?"

Chase and Cameron shrugged at the same time. "We talked," offered Chase helpfully.

"Things'll be fine," said Cameron in agreement.

Foreman looked from one to the other, eyes narrowed and arms folded over his chest. "Uh huh," he said. He noted that they stood next to each other awkwardly, Chase's hands held stiffly at his side, Cameron's hands balled into fists. He sighed and shrugged, forcing a bright smile onto his face. "Okay," he said in what he hoped was a convincing tone.

House walked in shortly afterwards to see Chase, Cameron and Foreman smiling at each other in silence. He paused at the doorway, a curious expression on his face. "Okay," he said, unconsciously echoing Foreman's earlier words. His eyebrows raised in an expression of amusement, he grabbed a donut from the box and walked to the white board. "This is weird."

At this, the three moved to take their usual seats. Chase accidentally brushed against Cameron as he sat down, murmuring an apology. Cameron turned a bright shade of red and muttered something incoherent in acknowledgement. Foreman heaved a long suffering sigh. House looked on, his face expressionless.

---------------------------------------------------------

It was early afternoon when House finally got a chance to speak to Cameron alone. She was standing in front of her desk with her back to the door, sorting a stack of what looked like surgeon's reports. She looked up he entered the room, but did not verbally acknowledge his presence.

"So...what happened between you and Chase?" he said by way of a conversation starter.

Cameron stayed silent, leaning down to scribble something onto a piece of paper.

House moved closer to her. "He's young, rich, got a medical degree, infatuated with you. Don't tell me he wasn't good enough for you either?"

"Shut up," she answered, anger thinly veiled in her tone.

He was struck by the intensity of her response. He had expected defensiveness, perhaps even shame - but anger was not one of the emotions that he had antipcated. His mind was too preoccupied with decoding her behavior to stop him from making a dangerous situation even worse.

"Where did it go wrong?" he asked, his tone speaking of nothing but a morbid curiousity. "It was like a fairy tale in the making." He leaned forward, cocking his head to one side. "Once upon a time, there was an intensivist with great hair and an immunologist with a great..."

She cut him off. "What do you want, House?"

He shrugged. "Cuddy's looking for me, I need a place to hide."

"Your office is a terrible hiding place," she responded. Her thoughts went back to her conversation with Wilson, and she couldn't help but wonder if what the oncologist said was true. She certainly couldn't detect any sort of feeling underneath House's usual bitter sarcasm.

House took the few steps needed to close the distance between them and looked over her shoulder, deliberately trying to insinuate himself into her personal space. He briefly wondered about his own motives, and decided that he mostly wanted to see her reaction. He didn't bother asking why.

She didn't give him the satisfaction of looking uncomfortable. Rather, she looked up to meet his eyes with hers, his self-imposed proximity to her now turned against him. Their eyes locked, and House suddenly found himself in a state of panic. He gulped and looked away first. She returned her gaze to her work as he took an involuntary step backwards.

"Well," he said in an attempt to ignore the tension in the room, "We don't have to talk about that."

"Is there something else we should be talking about?" she inquired innocently.

He glanced at her, surprised. She for her part betrayed nothing in her expression. He frowned. "No." He walked to his office door.

The sound of her laughter caught him offguard. "That doesn't surprise me," she answered, pointing a pen in his direction. "You'll never change. I told Wilson as much."

He stopped, and raised an eyebrow. "What?"

She rolled her eyes. "Doesn't matter. Since we don't have anything to talk about..." Cameron stacked the papers neatly into a pile on her desk and gathered them into her arms. She gave him a tight-lipped smile. "Dr. House." She turned to leave.

House's voice came from behind her, accusatory and cold. "That's your answer to everything, isn't it. Leaving."

She turned around to face him. "Don't get your hopes up," she said. "I'm past the point where I try to make things easier for you." She exited the room as House stood motionless, a hollow feeling settling in his stomach as he watched her walk away.

"It wouldn't be easier," he said to an empty room.

---------------------------------------------------------


	8. In Which Cameron Breaks

A/N: I blame strongly correlated electron states for all my troubles. Thank you for the reviews, they give me a sense of purpose. 

------------------------------------------------------

**Chapter 8: In Which Cameron Breaks**

Cameron stalked angrily out of the conference room and didn't stop until she reached the stairwell. Setting the papers down on the landing and collapsing against the wall, she drew her knees to her chest and expelled a huge breath of air.

The past few weeks had given her ample practice in shielding her feelings from external view, but the prolonged effort was taking a heavy toll on her emotional state. Her haste to leave the room had been more out of self-preservation than anything else. House got to her, as he always did, pushing all the right buttons to get her flustered and riled up at the same time. Cameron sniffed and allowed herself a small pep talk. She was young, attractive, nice and smart, a doctor at one of the top hospitals in the country. A specialist. Why was she wasting her time on a hopeless, middle-aged, mean-spirited misanthrope? Sure, he was attractive and brilliant, but that didn't make him worth it. Cameron sighed, realizing all at once the futility of trying to convince herself of something she didn't believe. House was more, meant more than that collection of adjectives. He always had, and he probably always would.

She swore, something she rarely ever did. The words resonated through the concrete stairwell, echoing around her as if the walls themselves were sympathizing with her frustration. She knew this thing with House was destroying her, and still she clung to the idea that there was a different man beneath his gruff exterior. Even though he had given her every indication to the contrary. Maybe she should have left "smart" out of her pep talk.

Rolling her eyes and gingerly picking herself up from the ground, she grabbed the papers up off the floor and headed down the stairs towards the clinic. No way she'd run into House there. Maybe avoidance was the key to recovery.

------------------------------------------------------

Chase and Foreman walked into the conference room, chatting easily about a case study that Foreman had recently read. "I just need to grab these reports," said Chase as he flipped through the papers on the table.

Foreman looked over his shoulder. "Maybe Cameron took them?" he suggested.

Chase stiffened. "I don't think so," he said. "She..." He paused as he found what he was looking for. "Ah, here we go."

Foreman nodded. "Okay. I got my stuff. Let's go."

They were turning to leave when House entered from the hallway. "Dr. Chase," he intoned casually as he passed by. "I would like a word with you." He walked into his office without looking back.

Foreman and Chase shared a look. Foreman shrugged. "I'll catch up with you later," he said, adding Chase's paperwork to his pile and carrying the entire stack out of the room.

Chase followed House into his office, hesitation apparent in his step. He was pretty sure that he hadn't done anything wrong, but he could never be sure.

House gestured for him to sit down on a chair in front of his desk, and Chase readily complied. House leaned forward and stared into Chase's eyes. Chase shifted uncomfortably under the intense scrutiny, looking from one side to another as if gauging his chances for a hasty escape. "What?" he finally asked, still avoiding House's piercing gaze.

Satisfied by whatever he found, House leaned back in his chair and said in a nonchalant manner, "So you and Cameron didn't work out, eh."

A brief moment for the words to register, then Chase stood up abruptly. "I don't have to stand for this," he said angrily.

"Then don't." House gestured towards the seat again. "Sit down." Chase hesitated, and House's tone grew cold. "I said sit down."

"This is highly unprofessional," Chase stated, lowering himself back into the seat and inwardly cursing his own cowardice.

House rolled his eyes. "And therefore, perfectly in character. Now, where were we?"

Chase crossed his arms over his chest. "You were prying into my personal life."

"You have no personal life," said House pointedly. "You're a blabbermouth. A snitch. A rat. When you talk about others, you're bound to get some of that back."

Exasperated, Chase asked, "Are you done?"

House shook his head. "Not quite. Tell me why you two aren't out frolicking in a field of daisies." Chase stared at him, resolutely keeping silent. House sighed. "Let me put it in kangaroo speak." He leaned forward and punctuated each word with a slight nod. "What went wrong?"

Chase pondered his options for a minute, and decided that this wasn't a battle he could win. "She still likes you," Chase said slowly. He rose from his seat and headed for the door. "Is that what you wanted to hear?"

Chase's back was turned, eliminating the need for House to hide his surprise. "You still like her," House called after him, curious. "So why give in so easily?"

Reaching the exit, Chase turned to smile at him, a move that House found somewhat unsettling. "Because it doesn't matter," he answered, smirking at the look of confusion on House's face. "You like her. Anyone would. But you aren't just anyone." Chase pointed a finger at House. "You, you'll screw it up like you always do..." His voice broke slightly, but he collected himself and finished, "...and nothing I say or do is going to change anything."

Supressing his reaction to Chase's harsh words, House scoffed derisively to cover his inner conflict. "How very noble of you to step aside. Thinking of others," he said, placing one hand over his heart and pretending to swoon. "The two of you are frighteningly alike in your stupidity."

Chase shook his head. "I'm stepping aside because it's the only way Cameron will come to her senses." He laughed bitterly. "She'll fall for you because that's what she does. You'll hurt her, because that's what you do. Foreman will try to kill you, because that's what he does. And I'll wait and hope, because that's what I do."

"A most touching monologue," said House acerbically. "Get out."

Chase shoved the door open and strode quickly down the hallway, leaving House to suffocate under the weight of his own thoughts.

------------------------------------------------------

The clicking of the MRI machine was more irritating than usual. Chase gritted his teeth and continued to watch the computer screen intently. Foreman stood by the window, watching another screen and writing notes on a clipboard.

"What's House's problem?"

Foreman looked up at Chase, surprised by the sudden outburst. "Whoa," he said. "Where'd that come from?"

Chase snorted. "He's a bastard."

Foreman mulled this over. "True," he allowed. "But he's always been a bastard. What's your point?"

"Why do we take this from him?"

"Take what?" asked Foreman, massaging his temples. He already knew where this conversation was heading.

Chase double-clicked an icon with unnecessary enthusiasm. "His incessant meddling, for one."

Foreman leaned into the microphone. "You're all done, Jamie. A nurse will be in to help you back to your room." He opened the door to the hallway and smiled at the nurse in question. "Thanks."

Chase followed as Foreman walked away. "He asked me about what happened with Cameron. How is that any of his damn business?"

"It's not," answered Foreman. "But that's what he does. Just let it go."

They reached the nursing station, where Foreman picked up one file and handed Chase another. He opened it, scanning the contents and hoping that Chase would drop the subject.

"He'll just hurt her," Chase pressed on, ignoring the hint.

Foreman stopped abruptly and put a hand to his head, feeling his headache return. "Look." He offered a sympathetic smile. "There's no point in getting worked up about it."

Chase crossed his arms angrily. "Whose side are you on?"

Foreman sighed. "If it makes you feel better, I agree with you."

Turning his attention back to his work, Chase muttered, "Thanks."

Foreman tapped a pen against his chin as he watched his colleague attempt to regain his composure. So this was why office romance was a bad idea.

------------------------------------------------------

Cameron was a model of efficiency in the clinic that afternoon, and Cuddy watched her swift actions with something approaching concern. She recognized an attempt to erase emotional pain with work when she saw it. She herself had brought that technique to a whole new level of mastery.

"Dr. Cameron," she began, as the younger doctor rushed past her with her arms full of completed charts.

Cameron paused and blew a stray wisp of hair out of her eyes. "Dr. Cuddy," she greeted, shifting her grip on the charts to a slightly more comfortable position. "What can I do for you?"

Cuddy smiled. "I was wondering if you know where Dr. House is." She watched Cameron's reaction closely. "He was supposed to be in the clinic twenty minutes ago."

Cameron shrugged with feigned nonchalance. "Not sure," she responded. "He was in the office earlier this afternoon, but I haven't seen him for the last couple hours."

"My ears are burning," came the familiar gruff voice from behind the two women. Cuddy turned to shoot him an exasperated look. Cameron closed her eyes briefly, but did not turn around.

House coughed. "Cameron, a word with you?"

Cameron stayed silent.

"Uh," said Cuddy, the sudden tension catching her off-guard. "Dr. Cameron, I'm going to need those charts by the end of the business day."

Cameron nodded, and Cuddy took this as an opportunity to escape, opting to monitor the situation from a comfortable distance.

"So," said House, tapping his cane on the floor. "Are you going to turn around at some point?"

Cameron shook her head. "Probably not." She started to walk away, but House reached out and grabbed her arm, startling her and causing the stack of charts she held to tip over precariously. She fumbled with them awkwardly, and House moved in front of her to help restore control over the rebellious paperwork. He looked up to see her already looking into the distance.

House sighed. "Cameron."

She reluctantly turned her gaze to him and they faced each other in silence, oblivious to the curious looks they were getting from the clinic staff.

"What do you want?" she said impatiently.

He gestured towards the door with a quick movement of his head. "Come on. I'll buy you a soda if you promise not to bite my head off again."

Sighing, she set the charts down on the nursing station and followed him to the cafeteria. Not a word was spoken until they stepped outside and sat down next to each other on the nearest bench. Cameron immediately began picking apart the label on her drink. House watched in silence. He hadn't completely thought this through, impulsively seeking her out without knowing what he wanted to accomplish, let alone how. He gritted his teeth and forced himself to concentrate. It was apparent that whatever was to transpire here, the first move lay with him. Steeling himself and hoping that he wasn't making a mistake, he said brusquely, "Why do you want to be with me?"

He winced. The words came out harsher than he had intended. Cameron, however, didn't seem to take offense. She looked up at him, her expression blank. "Who says I do?"

"Don't you?" he shot back.

She shrugged tiredly. "Depends on how you look at it."

Surprised, House reevaluated his approach. It wasn't as if he'd expected a heartfelt confession of love or anything quite so dramatic, but he had certainly expected more than the resignation on her face.

"How should I look at it?" He deliberately kept his tone light. "Chase thinks you'll fall for me because you're incapable of anything else."

She wondered when House and Chase had a chance to speak, but decided that she didn't want to know. "That's a pretty fair assessment," she said matter-of-factly.

House looked at her closely. "Should I be taking the word of others on how you feel?"

Cameron allowed a small smile to cross her face. "Depends. Should I be taking the word of others on how YOU feel?"

House blinked. "What do you mean?" he asked, as something clicked at the back of his mind.

Cameron's answer confirmed his suspicions. "A little oncologist on my shoulder," she said, attempting and failing to gauge House's reaction to her words.

"And?" he encouraged, mostly because he couldn't think of anything else to say.

"He thinks you're a moron," she answered calmly, unwilling to play into his hands. "And so far you're proving him right."

House waited, but did not receive any additional information. He continued, "Chase also thinks I'll hurt you because I'm incapable of anything else."

"The man is quite perceptive when he wants to be," came Cameron's neutral reply.

"So you want to be with me, even though I might hurt you." House balanced his chin on his cane. "Why?"

She sighed. "I could ask you the same question, except 'Why not?'"

He smirked. "The difference is, I never said I wanted to be with you. But otherwise a good point."

Something inside Cameron snapped, breaking her outwardly cool demeanor and effectively shattering the remnants of her will. She was too tired to fight back, too tired for verbal sparring, and suddenly all she wanted was for this to be over. "How many times do we need to have this conversation, House?" she said softly. He caught a glimpse of her face as she turned away from him. "Is this fun for you?" Cameron's voice shook as she continued, "You've won the game. Proved your point. Can I go now?"

She turned her face towards him, a cross between despair and anger in her expression. An involuntary sharp intake of breath as he took a good look at the young doctor before him, truly seeing her for the first time in weeks. Her face was pale and drawn, her eyes were filled with tears, and her shoulders were hunched dejectedly in a symbolic gesture of defeat. He was shocked into silence, unable to account for how he could have missed such a drastic transformation, unable to account for the role he had played in the process. She clenched her teeth and looked away again. "Cameron," he said slowly. "I..."

"Don't," she said, her tone almost pleading. She got up and began to walk away.

House reached out to stop her, but she was too fast for him. He lowered his head to stare balefully at the ground, too proud to chase after her but unable to watch her go. Too many times he had watched her back as she walked away, too many times he had wanted to stop her but couldn't. Instead, when he thought she was gone, he let his cane clatter to the floor and buried his head in his hands, muttering brokenly, "Please don't leave."

She was almost at the door, barely within earshot. She paused mid-step, unsure as to whether she had heard correctly. His words, practically inaudible, teased at her mind and tugged at her heart. In spite of herself, she quietly retraced her steps, back to where he sat, waiting for something, anything.

He looked up to see her standing in front of him, the sunlight reflecting off of her hair and enveloping her figure in an almost ethereal glow, a vision from his tormented dreams. "Allison," he said quietly, a slight tremor in his voice.

The sound of her name coming from his lips, spoken in his voice and infused with his pain proved too much for her to bear. Silently tears began to spill onto her cheeks. He watched her wipe her eyes with the sleeve of her lab coat, unable to vocalize his feelings but desperate to have her next to him. Even if she was silent. Even if she hated him. Even if she hurt him. Then and there, he fully and freely accepted reality - he needed her.

House stood andlimped slowlytowards Cameron, shoving his doubts and reservations to one side and ignoring the warning signals in his brain. She looked up at him through her eyelashes, wide-eyed and heart-breakingly beautiful. Their gazes locked, and for a moment he was overwhelmed by panic. Then in one swift, sudden movement, House pulled Cameron towards him and into a tight embrace. She quickly recovered from her surprise, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her head on his chest, allowing the sound of his heartbeat to fill her mind. House buried his face in her hair and muttered her name again, unable to give voice to an actual apology.

She made no acknowledgement apart from a small sigh that seemed to release the tension from her body, which he correctly interpreted as a sign of that all was forgiven. He wasn't at all sure that he deserved her forgiveness, nor was he anywhere near convinced that he deserved her - but for once in his life, he didn't feel a desire to probe any deeper into the question.


	9. In Which Everyone Else Has an Opinion

A/N: Someone insightful mentioned Stacy. I will, unfortunately, have to incorporate her into the story, since she has a way of showing up at inopportune moments. Personally, I thought her little 'you're the one but I can't be with you' stunt was disgusting. What's the matter, House? Not hurting enough? HOW ABOUT IF I DESTROY YOU COMPLETELY? Terrible. 

Thanks for the reviews. Hope you enjoy. I'm thinking two more chapters, and maybe an epilogue. Should you be wondering.

------------------------------------------------------

**Chapter 9: In Which Everyone Else Has An Opinion**

The wind swept fallen leaves in swirling paths along the pavement as the sun set over Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Shadows fell upon the ground and intermingled with the dying light, working in conjunction with a gentle breeze to cool the air in preparation for nightfall. From the parking lot came the sounds of engines starting and hasty goodbyes being interchanged, people hugging their jackets closer to their bodies to compensate for the unexpected chill of the evening.

Cameron's lab coat proved itself inadequate and she shivered slightly, causing House to snap out of his trance-like state.

"You're cold," he observed, dropping his arms and reluctantly stepping back. He cleared his throat nervously.

She gave him a small smile, and walked over to where he had dropped his cane. She proferred it to him and he took it with a grateful look. "We should probably go inside," she said gently. "People will talk."

He shrugged, not knowing how to respond. For absolutely no good reason whatsoever, he suddenly found himself feeling extremely awkward. Leaning on his cane and pursing his lips, he noted gratefully that Cameron seemed to pick up on his discomfort. Perhaps she had attained a greater understanding of his character, perhaps not - regardless, she kept silent on the subject, instead of insisting that they talk about it as he had feared. She lead the way back to the hospital, opening the door for him and walking alongside without comment. She wore a distant expression on her face. Perhaps she had her own thoughts to sort out.

They reached the elevator and she casually waved goodbye, turning towards the clinic entrance. Feeling supremely unsure of himself, he stuck out his cane and poked her in the back. She jumped, and turned around.

"Ow," she said, rubbing the point of contact and wincing.

He frowned slightly. "Did you drive?"

She gave him a strange look. "Today?"

"No, three weeks ago," he said, rolling his eyes. "Tuesday, to be exact."

"Funny," she answered, shoving her hands into the pockets of her lab coat. He fixed a cool, blue stare on her and she relented with a gentle sigh. "No, I didn't. Why?"

He shrugged. "I'll give you a ride home." The elevator came and he stepped into it, not turning around until he was absolutely certain that the doors were closed.

Cameron stood in place, watching him go. A smile forced its way onto her face. House was a strange, difficult man, and suddenly she didn't feel the least bit guilty about liking that.

-----------------------------------------------------------

Twenty-four minutes and thirty-three seconds, Cameron had been gone. Cuddy watched Cameron closely as she entered the clinic, picked up her files and resumed her task of looking busy. Her facial features showed no trace of their usual tension and she stood up a little straighter, making her seem more sure of herself. For her part, Cuddy was sure that something had happened between her and House. Now it fell to her to find out exactly what. She smiled to herself and made a mental note to pay a visit to the rest of House's team, relishing the idea that maybe someone had finally put House in his place.

Preoccupied with her train of thought, Cuddy failed to notice Stacy's presence beside her. "Lisa," Stacy said, after several subtle attempts to get her attention. Intrigued by Cuddy's lack of response, she followed the line of her sight. "Why are you watching Dr. Cameron?" she asked, her curiousity piqued.

Cuddy shrugged. "Just keeping tabs on things." She diverted her attention to the impeccably dressed attorney in front of her. "What can I do for you?"

Stacy handed Cuddy a file, continuing to watch Cameron's actions out of the corner of her eye. "Did you approve this procedure?" she asked.

Cuddy scanned the file quickly, her eyebrows knitting in confusion. "No..." she said, flipping through the pages rapidly. Her eyes were drawn to a scrawled signature at the bottom of a page, and she scoffed aloud. "It figures," she said tiredly, handing the file back to Stacy and striding to the nearest phone. Stacy followed, both concerned and amused by the turn of events. Cuddy dialed a number with an ease born of familiarity, her facial expression contorting as she spoke into the receiver. "You, my office, now," she said in clipped tones. She hung up and sighed heavily. "Care to join me?" she asked Stacy, gesturing towards her office.

Stacy smiled sympathetically. "Wouldn't miss this for the world."

-----------------------------------------------------------

Cameron walked into the conference room and sat down at the table with a small sigh. "I'm so glad this day is almost over," she said.

Foreman looked up from his work. "Are you okay?" he asked, concern evident in his voice.

She seemed surprised by the question. "Do I not look okay?"

He took in her appearance. "Actually, you look happy. Which begs the question, why?" He jokingly pointed an accusing finger in her direction. "Are you high, Dr. Cameron?"

She laughed, a clear ringing sound that he hadn't heard in a long time. "No, unfortunately."

"I'm watching you, young lady," he warned, now genuinely curious.

She smiled. "Don't worry. Everything's fine."

He nodded, still suspicious. "Yeah, because I should really believe you when you say that."

"Seriously," she assured him. "Everything is fine." She allowed her gaze to drift to House's office, where he was clearly absent from his desk. "Where's House?" she asked.

He narrowed his eyes. "Okay," he said, drawing the word out to indicate his skepticism. He leaned toward with his elbows on the table and looked directly at her. "What happened." She held up her hands in a silent protest of innocence, which he dismissed easily with a wave. "Don't give me that. Spill."

Her smile stayed fixed in place, where it had been ever since she had returned from the clinic. "What, I'm not even allowed to be happy anymore?" she asked, pretending to be offended.

"After everything that's happened in the past few days?" She shot him a look, and he sighed. "You go to the clinic. House disappears for a while. He comes back, nods at me." He raised an eyebrow. "At ME."

Cameron scoffed. "So he nodded. Big deal."

"Ah, but that's not all," said Foreman in a wise tone. "Let me finish."

Cameron shook her head bemusedly, sitting back in her chair and waiting expectantly.

"Then," continued Foreman, checking items off on his fingers as he spoke, "He gets a call from Cuddy. Looks slightly panicked. No objections, no arguments, nothing. Walks out of here as fast as he can."

She seemed surprised by this new piece of information, but restrained herself from comment. He grinned. "It's called guilt," he advised. She rolled her eyes. Knowing that he had her cornered, he continued, "And you come back, wearing this huge smile on your face and asking about House."

Cameron opened her eyes wide to assume an innocent expression, a last ditch attempt to deflect the question. "What, I can't wonder where people are?"

Foreman crossed his arms. "Cameron..."

She gave in, knowing that she would have to tell him eventually. "We talked."

Both of his eyebrows went up at this revelation. "And?" he prompted.

She looked down at the table demurely. Foreman's eyebrows shot up as far as they would go. "NO way," he breathed.

"Why not?" she asked in an attempt at defensiveness, her growing smile betraying her true feelings.

"Wow," said Foreman, at a loss for words. He took a deep breath in a valiant effort to quell the misgivings in his mind. "That's great, Cameron," he said sincerely. "That's what you want, right?"

She nodded, and he granted her a smile in return. Distractedly, she patted her pockets and frowned. "I think I left my pager in the clinic," she said, getting up from the table. "I'll be back."

He grunted in acknowledgement and watched her leave the room. He was unsure of House's motives and weary of Cameron's newfound happiness, but if House was what Cameron wanted, then Foreman would be happy for her. He shook his head. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't see this ending well.

Chase walked into the room and gave Foreman a quizzical look. Foreman sighed. He hated being the bearer of bad news.

-----------------------------------------------------------

"There was nothing abnormal on the MRI!" Cuddy waved the offending file in House's face. "Nothing whatsoever to back up your diagnosis!"

House smirked. "Except that I was right." His calm demeanor was a result of secret relief, having believed for the briefest of moments that his summoning had been for a transgression of an entirely different nature.

Cuddy glared at him. "You got lucky. Do you know how dangerous your actions were? To the patient?" She leaned towards him. "To this hospital?"

House bowed his head in an exaggerated manner. "Fine. I'm sorry, I'll never do it again. Is that all?" He indicated Stacy with a nod. "And what's she doing here?"

"Trying to keep you out of jail," Stacy answered, giving him an exasperated look.

"Yeah, sure," he said sarcastically.

"Their counsel thinks you mishandled the case," interjected Cuddy, folding her arms over her chest.

"I'll undo the damage I caused," he said, shrugging. "Give me a knife, I'll put him right back where he started."

"Witty retorts aren't going to make this go away," said Stacy.

He looked at her. "Will they makeyou go away? I'd settle for that."

Cuddy sighed. "Look. You saved the kid's life, so probably nothing will come of it."

"Then why are we here?" he said in a plaintive tone.

"You're here," exclaimed Cuddy, "Because you're out of control!" She waved the file in the air again to emphasize her point. "You forged my signature, for God's sake!"

He paused. "Oh yeah. That." He plastered a sickly sweet smile onto his face. "Sorry?" he offered.

Stacy scoffed. He glared at her. "You, stay out of this," he muttered. She rolled her eyes.

Cuddy sighed. "Just..." She cringed, fully knowing the futility of her words. "Please, don't do it again."

He nodded emphatically. "I'll be good, I promise. Really, I will," he said, in a tone that clearly indicated the contrary.

She gave him a tight-lipped smile and shook her head. He doffed an imaginary hat and left her office, but not without first casting a glance in Stacy's direction. When the door closed, she and Cuddy shared a look. "I'll talk to him," Stacy said, getting up and following House.

Cuddy seemed surprised. "Uh," she began. But the door was already closing behind her.

House walked as quickly as he could towards the doors of the clinic, not wanting to spend any more time than absolutely necessary in the place he considered his own personal hell. In his haste, he almost bowled over a small figure in a lab coat. She stumbled and cluched at his cane arm for support, causing him to gasp out in pain and turn to her with an insult ready on his tongue. He was just about to unleash his anger when he took a closer look at the offender. Realizing who it was, his mind rapidly switched gears and he coughed to buy himself some time. "Cameron?" he said, finally regaining his composure.

She straightened up and looked at him sheepishly. "Sorry. I was looking at my pager, didn't notice you coming." She let go of his arm and stepped back, smoothing out the creases on her lab coat and flashing him a gentle, if awkward smile.

He shrugged, ignoring both the throbbing pain in his leg and the panic sweeping across his brain. "Happens." He looked towards the doors. "Going back?" he asked casually, indicating with his cane the elevators beyond the clinic threshold.

She nodded in response, smiling slightly when House opened the door for her. Together they exited the clinic. Unbeknownst to them, Stacy watched as they walked away, her expression pensive.

-----------------------------------------------------------

Cameron decided to stop by radiology to see if she could persuade them to rush a few films she was waiting on, and bid goodbye to House on the second floor. He rode up the rest of the way by himself, using the moment of silence to ponder the events of the afternoon. The elevator door opened, and he walked towards his office with a slightly uneasy feeling in his stomach. Seeing the look on Foreman's face as he got up from the conference room table to meet him, House did a complete one-eighty and veered towards another direction. Maybe it was time to pay Wilson a visit.

Despite House's best efforts, Foreman caught up to him with ease. "Get into trouble with Cuddy?" he asked.

House shrugged, still walking. "You know how it is. Insult a patient here, fake a signature there, and all of a sudden everyone's out to get you."

"So it was about a patient," said Foreman. "She let you get off with a warning?"

House glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. "what can I say. She loves me."

"I'm sure," came Foreman's response. House took a bottle of Vicodin out of his pocket and opened it with one hand, tapping a pill into his mouth in a well-practiced motion. He dry-swallowed it and grimaced.

With an obvious gesture of his arm Foreman indicated House's leg. "Your leg hurt?"

"It always hurts," answered House. "What's your point."

Foreman smirked. "My point is, you should learn to appreciate what you've got."

"Ah, advice from the great black sage," said House derisively. "Thanks."

Silence fell between them, the two doctors walking side-by-side down an otherwise empty corridor. House had no idea where he was headed, walking purely for the purpose of getting Foreman to leave him alone. His plan, so far, was not working.

"It'd suck to lose your other leg, wouldn't it," mused Foreman aloud.

Something in his tone caused House to shoot his junior a look. "You talked to Cameron," he said slowly. Foreman met his gaze, and they shared a look of understanding. House sighed and waited for Foreman to begin. He was not disappointed.

"If you..."

"Save it."

Foreman tried again. "So much as..."

Rolling his eyes, House interrupted impatiently, "Yeah, I get it. No messing with your homegirl."

"I swear I'll..."

House held up a hand. "Shut up."

"Every bone in your..."

Fluttering his eyelashes, House interjected in a sweet tone, "Please shut up?"

They turned into another hallway and passed a group of nurses headed down to the cafeteria for their break. Foreman nodded at them, while House kept his gaze fixed straight ahead and his expression grim. When they were out of earshot, Foreman resumed his line of conversation. "Why are you doing this?" he demanded.

House contorted his face into an expression mimicking sincerity. "Because it's fun."

Foreman clenched his jaw. "Look, you..."

They approached the spot where House had emerged onto the floor several minutes earlier. Jumping into an available elevator and pressing the 'door close' button with his cane, House smiled sarcastically and waved goodbye. Foreman threw his hands up in a gesture of disgust and turned away, uttering a muffled oath under his breath.

As much as House detested having his personal life scrutinized by outsiders, he couldn't really blame Foreman for his concern. He cursed his conscience for its bad timing and smacked the closing door with his cane. He cleared his throat, causing a surprised Foreman to turn around and face him. With one hand on the elevator door and the other hand pressed heavily down on his cane, he stared at Foreman with a crystalline blue glare that indicated in no uncertain terms that any further conversation on the matter would be ill-received.

"I won't hurt her," he said quietly. Then he stepped back and allowed the door to close, leaving Foreman to gape at the elevators.

He wondered if Foreman had believed his words. He wondered if he believed them himself.

-----------------------------------------------------------

Wilson had been with a patient, shooing him away with the promise of a visit the very minute that he was done. Restless but left without other options, he returned to his office, carefully surveying the environment and noting with satisfaction that neither Cameron, Chase nor Foreman were anywhere to be seen. He was grateful to finally have a moment to himself, sitting down at his desk, closing his eyes and allowing his thoughts to take over.

"Greg," came an all too familiar voice from the doorway. He felt his shoulders sag slightly, and reluctantly opened his eyes.

She was stylishly dressed, every bit the attractive, intelligent businesswoman than he had fallen for to begin with. She stood at the door, and he stood up awkwardly. "Hi, Stacy," he said slowly, all too conscious of the conflicting emotions that hit him everytime they spoke.

She smiled, and he felt a brief stab of pain somewhere in his chest. "So, Dr. Cameron," she said, slowly walking up to him. It was an open-ended question, and she arched a delicately sculpted eyebrow at him.

He stared, willing himself to appear distant but painfully aware of her increasing physical proximity. "What did she do?" he asked, his expression carefully schooled into neutrality.

She knew him well, not even bothering to acknowledge his attempt at feigning ignorance. "It's a small hospital," she said, smiling wryly, and he remembered a previous conversation where he had postulated the exact opposite. He fidgeted with his cane as she continued to walk towards him. "I'm glad you're happy," she said, stopping less than a metre away.

House looked uncomfortable. "I didn't ask for your opinion," he said, not nearly as forcefully as he would have liked.

She nodded, still smiling. "I know." He looked at the floor, glancing up at her in an almost furtive manner. She added, "I just wanted to you know."

He coughed, shifting his weight to one leg and quickly back again. "I don't see why."

"I care about you. I want to see you happy." She touched his arm lightly and looked up into his eyes. "If Allison makes you happy, that's all that matters."

He flinched, hearing her speak Cameron's first name with an ease that he had not yet attained. "Thanks," he muttered, still deliberately averting his eyes. A movement from the doorway caught his attention, and he looked up to see Cameron standing at the door, her eyes wide and her mouth slightly open from surprise.

Caught in an awkward situation between the only two women with the ability to make or break him, he looked quickly from one to the other, realizing with a pang just how much younger Cameron really was. In a battle of wits she simply no match for Stacy. Strong but not fierce, Cameron was relegated to helpless observer status while Stacy stood a hair's breadth away from House, looking at him in a most intimate manner without so much as acknowledging the younger woman's existence. House closed his eyes and braced himself for the onslaught that never came.

Finally, Stacy drew her hand away and stepped back. "Dr. Cameron," she said easily as she turned away. "I was just on my way out."

Cameron nodded dumbly, and after giving House a small wave Stacy made a graceful exit. House stared at his hands, his face a blank slate.

An ominous silence settled over the room, and it was a full minute before he worked up the courage to look at Cameron. He half-expected her to break down into tears, run out of the room crying, yell at him for being an insensitive bastard or do something similarly dramatic. She stood in front him, a weary and uncertain smile on her face. Then, in a motion so swift that he barely registered it, she kissed him gently on the cheek. He froze, and was briefly convinced that his heart had stopped.

"I'll wait for you downstairs," she said softly. He nodded wordlessly and she walked into the conference room. He could hear her gathering her belongings in the next room, the sound of her laptop bag being zipped up, her slipping into her jacket, her light being turned off, her door closing. He sat down heavily at his desk and stared at his paperweights, tapping his cane on the floor.

----------------------------------------------------------


End file.
